When Heaven Isn’t Heaven

Take a right and then a left.
Here a cure and there a theft.
Pain and love abound where stain and soap are found.
I am born below the ground and There gave sound to the stifled cry:
What is safe, what is not?
Here, far from lust and in the dust are traces of places I've been,
far apart from fleeing eyes and throbbing cries of childless mothers.
Here is haven, here where lies are less forgiving.
There is heaven where I am the beginning.
If tears are paints of purest hue that trace a path from me to you
then twice I sat before the storm and sank from here to there,
where this tear led straight to you.

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