A lousy poem for two of my sisters.
Not the lousy sisters, though; the two who don't qualify as lousy.
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You are never so alone
As how you feel,
Break through cold stone,
Find what's real.

Find the eye of the storm,
Follow it to better times;
Deduct the form,
Forget their crimes.

Just beyond the next few bends,
Beyond the line of sight;
There waits Joy, and Hope extends,
Beyond the end of night.