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My insides...the soul of me
Knows what my voice cannot speak...words are too trite
Why, then, this compulsion to express?
Must it get out somehow?
There is emotion that tears...only tears, relieve
Will I feel better to let it go?
Or better, I think, to let it grow
To effectuate this
Painful out-growing of my own too small-ness

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The Liturgists

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