When sun beats down on red scarred skin,
The tempest whip tears from within.
A golden crown on heavy heads,
Turns stone and sand to righteous bread.
Upon a throne enlightened son,
His pain but weary, nor prayer become.
His soul to sit beside the throne,
Oh Lord and sin and gracious home.
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Author:
RSM0812 (
Offline) - Published: April 17th, 2024 10:35
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 3
Offline)
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