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Conjolted Poetry

Conjolted Poetry

Sunday, 6 April 2014

Your sin.

Your sin.

Do not call to account that which is not yours.
for yours is yours alone like the skin that wraps your bones.

Do not call off transgressions that you masterminded,
pointing fingers to the lot that connived and aided..

Bare in mind your burdens are yours and yours alone
and their heftiness in your left palm is caused by your naughty ways,

Don't not call to account that which is not yours,
for the books have been tallied and your are accountable-. 

For yours and only yours.

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