…his hands ache from instincts
he carried for all of his life,
burns– drenched in blood,
so he throws them all down!
reaching a world– different,
from what the whole world saw
and his tears can’t be held
by his little brain in his head,
that’s why he cracks!

knees down,
hands down,
head down:
“No, my suffering was not the greatest
No, my thoughts were not the deepest
No, my road was not the harshest
No, my life was not the hardest…
No! – I am not one of the fruits
That this Grand Tree has had,
I am the peeled bark;

Like fruits,
Like leaves,
Like roots…
If not eaten by worms
Tomorrow, I too, will rot.”


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