I am strong, God is my strength
I’m not sure why negative things happen.
I know that words have the power to heal.
Words, music, time,
and the human hand and touch.
Yellow tulips, custard, and all thing yellowy,
must never be forgotten or left out. Nor abandoned, hidden.
I’m not who I used to be.
She’s not who she wants to be.
Saints, holy men
are just as confused as we are.
It cannot be understood.
The sky and the rocks don’t seem to question “why?”
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