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I cannot unspeak.

I cannot unhear.

I cannot unsee.

I cannot unfeel.

I cannot unthink.

I cannot undo my past.

The memories of my sin sometimes clutter my mind like charred logs of a forest fire. Tripping me. Trapping me. Trying to transport me to where I once lived, these statues of selfishness cut down by the fire of holy forgiveness.

These dead black hulks create a maze of regret and remorse, of pain that punctures the present from the past — seared spears hurled by the evil one who fostered their growth — detracting from the Divine.

My heart knows they are more than dead, lifeless and limble...


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