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That Crooked Line

  That crooked line


I hold grief in one hand

hope in the other 

I can’t tell you 

which is stronger 


washing sins in 

that dirty river 

sticky and dry 

I remain  


walking that 

crooked line 

into a future 

not feeling any wiser 


moving towards 

something softer 

that whisper 

calling my name 


 

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