Fear of the eww

With vomit dripping from every sharp, venomous insult launched by malicious hearts, comes another wound. Bones with too many breaks become deformed and twisted. I forgive not like sprinkling salt but the demand for my cheek to tremble before another strike is always greater than the supply I'm able to bring to their table of mockery. The unquenchable fire of pure divine love is more than capable of mastering my miniscule combat of conscience and the misadventures of this poser- sage are like so many babes attempting to walk .