the breeze of the night
that passes through the pane
tells me that peace
shall now ease off the pain
brought by the hunger
of the demon unfed
who laughs and who lingers
so lone in my head
who tells I cannot
will never do matter
billions of people
my lot will not luster
who deems all that’s true
is barefoot, is none
who walks into the mutiny, to the so endured agony
to the living, to the death, of my own width and breadth.

thank god if there is
for the truth which now I know
that waking while somnolent, is but dying with a bow.



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