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My savior, offering baskets of bread
And red herring.
Sophistries for picnic blankets to dine on.
St. Jude hands me a towel, whispers in my ear;
“A tired soul can lie, as easily sneak
Angels back into heaven.
But, it’s not only the devil who can smile
When committing a dirty little sin. “
My choices are halos and horns for hand holds,
To hang onto that which may not be mine.

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