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Cured: A Therapist's Hope for His Client

She approaches with pain and confusion and just a small dose of hope She asks can you cure me? Please can you cure me? I recite a silent prayer Open my lips, let Your healing wisdom sprout forth I respond You can cure the me. It's up to you to cure the me. We travel and we turn Reversing and shooting forward The clock ever moving Painfully slow and magically quick Truths and lies uncovered Branching and pruning As the silent ticking echoes and, the question follows Can you continue to cure me The victory of her departure Leaves the seat empty and questioning Am I Gd or is it Gd's in me? And He answered she was cured by Me.

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