Content of: Sins
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01/05/18 at 10:50PM
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Poetry
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I hear the wind in the Pines
calling my name,
as though they are beckoning me,
to come forth and to answer
for sins of the past.
Sin's of the past are those of my father
and their fathers, before them, now gone.
For each of us must bear
all the anguish of ages
and make our amends
for those who have gone,
years before.
