Excruciating

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The pain in your voice, my God. Nails on a chalkboard are a musical composition compared to that pain. The depth of your darkness is nothing compared to the darkness of your depth. My ribs envelope an undying force of love that yearns to lift you whe...

The pain in your voice, my God. Nails on a chalkboard are a musical composition compared to that pain. The depth of your darkness is nothing compared to the darkness of your depth. My ribs envelope an undying force of love that yearns to lift you when you are ready. Come, and let me bring you home.

 

Alexandra L. Narron

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