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Sows...
It falls as if in the setting sun
Rain from a sprinkler
Pattering on my head
Softly pouring from it’s vessel
It’s illusions bring forth light
All time seems to cease
Whispers are pieces on the ground
Falling from the waterfall inside
My wounded whole
My wounded soul
From which there is no restitution
No recision
But under the tall mangled bottoms
Of all the toils in my heart
Repent
Repent
The calling is of angels
Repent
Repent
I try, but am unable
For too far flung the sows I’ve wrung
Slip past the garden of the heavens
Reach under my neck and pull
The water has drown another
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