The atrocity of giving life
makes me feel inadequate.
The horror of repetition,
sacrifice of all my cells, more or less faithful
assembly of a new body that you need to tell stories of my
.
No more blood will be poured for him since
stardust forge
bones and hair weave mother's heart.
Wounding a man to leave through another man, another man
that is not mine, nor
keeps well but faces
draws to start the description.
play of forces between two incomplete apparent
sol'io were involved I'd go back virgin.
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