Jan 22, 2013

Battle Within

Battles of the flesh and blood did offend,
Her violated temple was coated in sin,

And, she attended a spirited church which praised trouble,
It falls hard like a fumble, they would chuckle,

Those moth mouths spoke of the salt required,
To be a mindful mountain; to have a pining attire,

A given solution for her poisonous waste,
Yet, one cannot mix guilty fire and virtuous taste ,

Now years console a mundane blame,
Her finger is bent; her body numb to the pain,

As she puts her feelings of concern along a court-side ring,
Her divorce complete like autumn, winter and spring,

And the clouded judges look beyond her, eyeing with contempt,
Unknowing of her radiant skin and what she did exempt


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