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Poetry
The Uncomfortable
This place is flushed with a friendly lighton Sunday evenings when the days grow short,but not on this Lord’s Day morning. On thisday of the
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This place is flushed with a friendly lighton Sunday evenings when the days grow short,but not on this Lord’s Day morning. On thisday of the
I said I wouldn’t do it,so how does it happenon a Sunday we tookcommunion that I findmyself staring at aglowing, naked image?And I do not
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