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Ten July One thousand nine hundred and ninety-six

A tear in the folds of being
a sharp cry of pain
subtle and piercing
a suffering voice
said
again? and why?…
The universe is full of wounds
and each time, it is worse and worse
but we preserve the very special
memory
of each one.
For each one, there is an angel…

Confound the cursed, cast into the living flames, Call me among the blessed
I pray supplicant and prostrate, my heart contrite as ashes, take care of my fate

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