It's divine how the creator
cut me in his vision
But there's fault in the stars
for which held my soul prison.
To believe good is so strong,
it could never be doomed by hate,
takes calculation so precise,
that I find myself alive today.
When your memories are blurred
and the only consistency is Him,
it wasn't a mistake.
It has a purpose, this life I'm in.
Not easy to dim,
within is a light he stores.
The purpose he holds
and will reveal when looked to Him once more.
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