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The Walk Your life now taken. I could not save you. I tried. The harder I fought the more they tugged, pulling you deeper into that pit of death. I am finding it hard to turn my spirit from the path I could not follow. Yet, I know this is your walk. The scars of suffering, etched deeply in my mind, refuse to heal and let you go. I must, somehow. Your body is here in a sealed coffin waiting to be placed six foot under. My mind must let you go before then. © 4/19/2000 Donna Friedrichs |
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