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I pray for grace
in the midst of this disgrace
Locked away by my own accord

I know the steps I need to take
the road most travled, except for me

I want to be alone,
but still surrounded by the fingertips of the heavy touch of my kin

I feel the pull of the outside world,
and where my place is in it
Yet over and over, I turn a cold cheek to its over reaching warmth.

The barrell no longer has a bottom,
so its all rebuilding from here.

What other container can hold all of my excesses?