These godly women (before mentioned) were both of Ipswich, and suffered about the same time with Cranmer. When in prison together, Mrs. Trunchfield was less ardent and zealous than Mrs. Potten; but when at the stake, her hope in glory was brigh... Read more of Agnes Potten And Joan Trunchfield at Martyrs.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Today's Lesson





No Poetic Device

by: AFI








I've been dreaming.
I was lucid.
I was dreaming blood was seeping from my pores.
Who'd believe that it was all my own decision?
Cracked faces and medicated smiles.
Set fire to my home before I turned and walked back in.
For every needle open my chest and insert ten pins.
I just anticipate what awaits when I awake... break.
I die in my daydreams.
The gardens have all been overgrown.
I pushed my hand through the thorns to crush the final rose.
A deadly secret only I suffer to know.
I can't eradicate what awaits when I awake... break.
I die in my day dreams.






Next: Now The World

Previous: Narrative Of Soul Against Soul



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