i would want you to know that hope comes
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Fought so long and hard that I've forgotten who I am,
Breathed the dust of angels and choked on the sand,
Wrestled with the devil and bled scarlet, heavy red,
On the other side of Paradise, where I lay almost dead.
do you hold the tempests in your ragged fists,
or thread the galaxies through the scars on your palms?
or are you the follower, longing for purpose,
and maybe for truth?
