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Tuesday, January 26, 2016

Should I leave all and disappear
My every effort and nothing at all
In the forest or the mountains
Shall I pour my rage and the anger
It’s the wound all over me, no supersede
Burns through my head, standing
My body they transcalent no more
I tried washing them, the irreceptive with the water
Those child do not hollo hands anymore
But the fever like the wildfire here
Is to be burned with the candle and the flame.


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