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Linda Dousay

I cannot tell the hour—
Nor the moment, or the day—
I only heard a whisper,
"You're going the wrong way."

Persistent Preservation—
Natural instinct—call it Pride—
Is Shattered by Delusion
When the heart Controls the mind.

It’s Buried now—I stopped it Cold.
I shutter still within!
So close we came to Brass not Gold—
To Shame and Mortal Sin.

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