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Cold

by mike bullock

I'm striving and straining
To change what I am
My patience is poorly
I'm shut like a clam
Nothing has altered
I'm still cold as ice
Emotions abandoned
I'm not very nice.

Perhaps I should bask
In the heat of the Son
Who died on a cross
So my victory was won
To set free this captive
The devil had hold
No longer I need
To remain in the cold.

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This poem was a finalist in the March 2017 poetry contest

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