Friday, September 5, 2014

Sister Comments

Rating: 5.0

She always wore little crosses
That hung like crimson blossoms from her dress
Arms outstretched, opened like a bloom
But doomed to die a death through torture
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John Schulte
COMMENTS
Juan Olivarez 05 September 2014

Beautiful poem. The sacrifice of ones life for your belief.

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John Schulte

John Schulte

Dayton, Ohio
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