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Fire
The ebb of time pushes me sometimes gentle, sometimes rough.
I try to burn my way through but it is never quite enough.
Of course I stumble, and of course I fall.
I know a different god, not none at all.
Why do we point the blame for all the bad things we did?
I pray not for myself, I pray for this;
Find wonder at sorrow and love in hate.
The day is over, but it is not too late.
Is ignorance the crime or is it bliss?
I find myself watching with a heart, not a fist.
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This article has 17 comments.
But I think that you were trying so hard to be deep in clever that you sort of lost sight of what the poem was really about, which kind of leaves the reader lost.
But don't get me wrong, you are every talented.
And I love the line "Find wonder at sorrow and love in hate." It really touched me personally because I find that doing this myself is a very hard task.
-Bria
can u take a look at mine when there posted?
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