My path...

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The thoughts, one by one, they torture me the what ifs, the whys, and maybes... As if the hands of time were mine to spin I could choose that path to my appeal... Why, then, do I walk among thorns? My pain seems to be the will of Thee... If only I cast the thorns aside I would see my Savior's feet before me... So, it seems, you lead me through illusion of torture... Paling comparing to the nails for my steps are ordained by You...