Trial (an acrostic poem)

Tribulations were the least of Lydia’s worries

Racing against the end of days was a real thing

If she was successful, everyone would survive

And if she failed, well, that really wasn’t an option

Lifting her eyes to seek whatever divine help she could she entered the fray

 

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Wild (an acrostic poem)

When they told her to calm down, she amped it up

If they told her to wait a minute, she went faster

Looking back was never an option; she just kept her eyes to the future

Determined was how she viewed herself, others thought she was…

 

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