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Slight twists of phrases
are bringing your praises
back to you, meant
or subconsciously bent
towards self and soul.
You long to be whole,
and convenient love
makes praises thereof
show back to you,
your soul coming through.

Our heart is revealed
in words never repealed.
Ashamed, we try,
but our words cannot die.
Soul lives in our words,
heart easily heard
and held in another,
whose unique other
takes thoughtless word
– our own soul, learned –
and blends a thought,
a different soul brought
to the table.
Are we able
to control this thing?
These words sting –
Do we even realize
the pain in others’ eyes?
Subconscious, beneath
all the mire of belief
real soul slips out
and our words fly about.

~ not sure on the date, sometime in 2006 

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