Good and cold within the dirt,
The evil man will rise.
He’ll play a melody of pain.
Which is none of your surprise.
He has the key to agonize
And complicate the joy.
He has no reason to compensate
To suffocate his toy.
Sorrows are a planning guide.
Tragedies are the heights.
No one could ever out create
The Spirit within the lights.
It’s only when the evening comes,
That death could be so great,
To save us from the games we play,
Before the night is late.
1-25-1992 Saturday
Written by Gail Brookshire
Glad to see you back,Gail.How are you?Hope everything is better now.Me and God love you!
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I am Blessed. God is good! I pray you are doing well! Me and God love you too!! ❤ 🙂
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I’m quite worried with the tone of your recent posts.God is really good!I’ll be here for you.
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I love you for hearing the pain I had so many years ago. My poems tell the year I wrote them. I did not even realize I had such pain. I honestly thought it was beautiful truth. God is so amazing to rescue me from such darkness. I struggle with depression sometimes now, but NOTHING like I did back then. Thank you for your beautiful heart, Anabel! God has blessed me with you as well! ❤
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I didn’t notice they were written years ago.But I felt relieved now,knowing that you have overcome all those challenges.God is indeed merciful,Gail.More blessings to you and your family!
Love,
Anabel
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❤ ❤ ❤
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