May 18, 2009
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What is it?
Not a lightbulb
Or the crystals of snow that inhabit the ground
Not the pope's cult
Or the white feathers of my pillow that surrounds
It is God,It is the lord
Impossible to be fraud
Far many than more
When the room is spinning
And my back becomes one with the corner
When Satan is winning
And the black flames become warmer
One yell for the blood of my savior
And I never felt safer
As he comes as wind from nowhere
Whipping through my hair,taking away my fright
He is the world's brightest light

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