Drawing lines in the sand.

My heart at times feels as though it rest on an unfair scale. Strapped somewhere between that which I once drempt of and the now pending checks and balances. Fleeting are the days of remorse brought near by anguish I can no longer change nor bare. Now only must I abandon every unhopeful thought. All woeful thinking. For it does me no good. It ties me with weighted chains to a sinking ship. Draw near to me now, dreams of my Father. Forcefully killing any shadow that may linger. Strangling the whelping voices of failure. Listening only to the voice that is calling me home.


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