jacqueline amos

I Am Old Enough To Dye
2007-12-22 22:39:49 (UTC)

Confinment

The thief that stood at the back door;
To claim a inheritance, humble watch it reverse.
The spoken words that flow from the heavens,
Which we take no glory are form,
beware of the devil he is swift and calm.
Who sales to the devil ; Flea markets
of death, as the holder
of the inheritances, throws it away.
I stepped from my cell's confinement
the hell that sits upon my feet.
Humbly I speak, God protect me from my self,

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