christA Poem by cricketmisplaced in religion
My fingertips
Stain the delicate bible papers Deep red wine Although this blood is not christs Its mine, Carved open by the sharp words That lay hidden and tucked in between Those false and flowery sentiments © 2022 cricketAuthor's Note
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StatsAuthorcricketBloomington , INAboutyoung writer from the midwest hoping to find more and putting it into words along the way. more..Writing
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