Problem Of Pain
like heaven before me
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The blood flows from my veins out of my hands
The same hands that extended a rotten offering
I lay myself down
Water flows from my eyes washing me away from you
I am consumed, filled with contrition
As I weep I feel the weight shift
Flow through me, leave me
Is this where God is? When I am at my weakest?
I bathe to purify the blood that stains my hands