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CLAY

Words of clay
Are in my head
I form them as I please
I don’t seem to struggle
They come to me with ease
But I can’t take all the credit
For the potter
Sits on high
He comforts me
And strengthens me
Until my time nigh
So I pass along his blessings
To my fellow man in need
One drop of hope
Is like a rope
To a drowning man indeed
Written by dnzmemn66
Published
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