The Time, the Suffering, the Death
God asked me for a glass of water.
You want to carry the sin, look,
he’s coming darting to the sky
out of the heavy darkness the grain
of the doubts bursts and the horror
that has no voice wants you, they want
to see you dead from suffering.
“Lord, have mercy on us.” But the Lord
answers me, “Where is the glass of water
that I asked you for?” The concoction
of the future was the favourite game
of my escapes.
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