lines.

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Thin lines cover my face. Count them and you'll find how many hard times I've survived, in torment of God's hands, reaching for the surface, but sinking lower each second.

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When I was younger there were no lines and we frolicked in fields of marigolds, tulips, and sometimes making a vast journey through the rose bushes.

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Where has the time gone and what has the world done to me? Haven't I been tormented enough for you to finally grant mercy amongst my soul?