After the Day Has Ended

I’m a funnel for truth in despair
held under running dialogue,
a sieve for misery when panning for gold
There’s a piece of me out there missing
if I could only explain:
The things I say become meaningless in your fist
but I’ve got to make a stand
somewhere old injuries can mend
with a God-given right to complain

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Author: Emma Beane

"My history is still one of those mysteries I struggle with every day..." - [ebeane] ... All original works Copyright Emma Beane

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