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Thinking back is a weapon, all the things you now to late but still considered.
More than once life was that of a splinter, deep down health roots but winter causes the rose to wither.
Each time I became inflicted, not only did I bare the witness, also I bit the bullet.
When my mind grows founder it does often ponder on those days.
Only God.
merely his mercy is so deep, so perplexed, and sharp as the swords edge.
One can not say what plans God has playing, demonstrating what sheep he set out to be saved.
Oh that strong branch, in due season shedding off those leafs. Yet again as spring begins a new improved process begins.
Twas it our days that grew numbers or were we as numbered into the days we were gave.
I know a truth that is a truth you can chop a tree to its stoop yet that was just a churning of its youth because the strength of that there tree is in those roots.
Something u have to keep deep deep down inside. If it were to be exposed at the wrong time the roots would have withered. There is a light a light that shines. That is deep down inside God is the light in mine.
I found days I was left partly slayed, broken bones, days had grown the decaying but nothing had stopped the vibrating of the heart in my chest. Each step I fell Each step doors where slammed in my face. I never forgot what that is such purer than gold. I have a story that needs to be told. We had each other my two sisters and I. Sometimes sacred know they are suppose to wander alone into sacred grounds. Deep down inside the vallys of a small town. When we would come together no one person knew which trail we choose. We were together out in the plowed down fileds.
We knew something special we held we just never spoke such things. Bare back ridding horses we never showed what we hold. It's been stored down deep and you can not break the mold each fold of pain we once had felt. Afaride if faced what would be dealt. Yet the truth is in order to have healed you have had to have felt which pain in different places we separately but all as one felt. As it is blessed to breath good health.

About this poem

Life is as simple as perception. Even though you were cut it was the tender care of the dresser who so tenderly placed your bandage.

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Written on January 25, 2023

Submitted by brieanah_r on January 25, 2023

2:07 min read

Quick analysis:

Characters 2,095
Words 422
Stanzas 1
Stanza Lengths 13

Brieanah Rowden

My whole life I've been the burden the bad seed always searching for a belonging. One trial after another I've never not talked to God. I've been threw alot and for me to be sane is a blessing in its self more…

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    "Incisions" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2023. Web. 28 Mar. 2023. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/149297/incisions>.

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