Martin LutherA Poem by winter;lyra
enemy of my state
keep up with this pace for I have met the face of my god and lost mine beware so of the burning house without insurance i have met the horror my friend one worshipped, and unknown to both the rash pen and the young poet ashamed. of my slate i see through new eyes the meaning of the true eternal © 2019 winter;lyra |
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Added on April 14, 2019 Last Updated on April 14, 2019 Author
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