Copyright © Priya Florence Shah
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They toasted hollow victories
Loud in their glee,
But God’s hand is moving
Swift as can be.
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Their confidence shakes
It begins to cave
Like sandcastles falling
In a tidal wave
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Joy lost without a trace
It all fades to gray
Spiralling in confusion
As truth has its say
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In the depths, they tremble
Their darkness enthralled
What was built with malice
Now crumbles and falls
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Dragged deeper
Into the abyss
The battle is won
With God’s bliss
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