Underneathe
(the shadow of)
his skin and flesh
was my rest
(his justice)
wrested for me
He wrestled
what I could not see
he wrestled
all I could not be
they pinned him down
down to the ground
not aware
not a care
and I was underneathe
not knowing how safe in the shadow
I really was
because . . .
I heard the shouts
smelled the blood
felt the darkness
saw the flashes
(yet)
Underneathe . . .
his skin and flesh
was my rest
he wrested for me
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