justin


The SearchThe time had come to start his quest. This journey would be the final test. Past body and mind, he’ll go without rest, Into his soul to overthrow the pest, Self doubt and loathing, never feeling blessed. Fighting to regain control, since his faults he’s confessed, He’ll travel, nonstop, until his oppressor is oppressed.The Search


Walking AloneHe sees her walking. She is alone, lost in thought. His mind becomes like empty.Walking Alone
She walks, through his mind. He thinks about time and life. Eternity, beyond grasp.


A Touch of FeverYou can feel her, burning in your veins, Holding you down with titanic chains. She’s everywhere, at all the turns. For her touch, your body burns. And yet you let her, despite the painsA Touch of Fever
Upon your body, her silhouette reigns. You’re losing the war, your self-control wanes. Despite your efforts your body yearns. You can feel her.
You’ve tried and tried, but she remains. No bleeding her out, no bleaching the stains. She’s in your body and your concerns. When you think she’s gone, she returns. Why, you ask, but your body explains, You can feel her.


A Couple's PrayerDear Lord we come to you this day Together so that we may pray Our heads bowed low and hands held tight We pray for your Word's guiding light Where to go, Lord, what we need Grant us guidance, we faithfully pleadA Couple's Prayer
Our life together is focused on you If it's in your will what must we do To be together and meet your demands And live our lives in your caring hands &nbs
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♥ Gallery | Twitter | Facebook
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An Irishman has an abiding sense of tragedy that sustains him through temporary bouts of joy.
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My hope was found when I left you in your darkest moment.
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Yes, I use my own art in my avatar - [link]
I hate text talk. If everyone used proper grammar and spelling, the world would be a better place. Please help me?
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Abortion does not make you unpregnant, it simply makes you the mother of a dead baby.
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"Religion used to try,
That vast, moth-eaten musical brocade
Created to pretend we never die,"
From: Philip Larkin's "Aubade"
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"Religion used to try,
That vast, moth-eaten musical brocade
Created to pretend we never die,"
From: Philip Larkin's "Aubade"
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hey douche.
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