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<div align="center"><b><span style="FONT-SIZE: 10pt; FONT-FAMILY: " face="'Bookman Old Style'" color="black">Mis-carriage<br /><br /></span></b><span style="FONT-SIZE: 10pt; FONT-FAMILY: ; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold" face="'Bookman Old Style'" color="black">My soul is depilated..<br />With every inch of my potency<br />I try to hold back these tears of desolation<br />I am deteriorating with time<br />As society monophonically devours my taste of life<br />And the walls that once held themselves now hold me too<br />I have mis-carried my life<br />Obliterating the moments when I cared<br />I curl into the fetal position in which I was born<br />When life didn't seem so hard<br />My soul is depilated<br />My heart has perished into the cares of this world<br />I have met the fork in the road<br />Dined with it and had desert<br />Sporadically flashing before my perception are images of my life<br />That carried happiness<br />Joy<br />Peace<br />Love<br />Now I am somewhere in betwixt these things<br />Trying to find myself<br />But my mind has given-up<br />I have mis-carried my life<br />Becoming a transparency<br />I have placed shields around my space<br />Holding back these tears of desolation<br />I am in pain.<br />And every time I seek for help<br />Help makes a run for it<br />It seems as if...<p></p></span><span style="FONT-SIZE: 10pt; FONT-FAMILY: ; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA" face="'Bookman Old Style'" color="black">My prayers knock at the door <br />But Jesus looks out the window <br />As if I am not his own...<br />Soliciting with Jehovah Witnesses' perhaps?<br />He closes the curtain and turns away...<br />My soul is depilated and <br />I have mis-carried my life<br />And for what its worth<br />I am pregnant again.</span></div>

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