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Prose Lord Willing and the Creek Don't Rise

Hannah Capps

Let the Redeemed of the Lord Say So
Joined
Jan 29, 2006
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1,063
Picked fingers, mind of despair Desperately inhaling oxygen, fighting dusk. Heavy is the head of depression's crown. Hefty is the life that’s oppressed. Ashes sunbaked, eyelids of tear tracks from the night before

Cavernous views. Aged heart. Broken chest. Strangled weight, cruel clasp

Hands dangle from these sides, guilty of treason. Appointed end by suffocation. Heavy, heady head’s primal cry

Runny eyes, shotgun shell hunch Intensifying sick...Fool me once, shame mine to bear. Disgrace me again; I’m double-duped.
 
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