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  • Swirling in the undertow of anger
    Listening to the voices in my head
    It is not anyone's conviction but my own
    This seed once planted by a cruel remarkable
    now festering within the bile of others
    Intensely rising through the thorns of doubt
    and branching leaves of discontent
    How dare I listen to the voices of the past
    the echoes of the life I left behind
    embracing light and purity and yet
    the old man lingers still, awaits the moment
    when the shadows of my nights
    enfold me in the memories that will not die.

    But I, in humble pose with folded hands
    plead for your understanding, and I know
    you understand temptation, for there upon the tree
    you witnessed to us all your dedication
    to reunion, mercy, peace and love.

    And in this conversation begin
    to understand
    the mercy and forgiveness you demand.

    That I could be the man I ought to be
    will be the heartfelt joy I've yet to see.

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