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by Lauren Wilk

A throbbing pain pounds its fists

     Against the walls of my head,

Slowly cracking my skull

     A fire eager to spread


     Thoughts interrupted

By a roaring chorus of voices

     Resurrected by each pulse, through narrow veins

The bloody church within they rejoice


Fingers curled around the crown

     Desperate to keep my brain from splitting

And whenever the disciples beg to come back

     They make sure I know they are visiting

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