Poetry

Rain, rain go away

Pain, pain go away
For ask sane to come another day

For hearts are not meant to be played
Pain, pain go away

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Poetry

Her Maker

You called her beautiful when her Maker covered her flaws.

You called her princess when her Maker is the All-King.

You called her your everything when you should have called Him.

For her Maker, made her – her heart and her soul.

All delicately heaved and written by Him.

Now, don’t give up on her.
Instead, ask Him.

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