child. . .
You see my sweat pus?
swabs. . blood is not it?
and if you look at my tracks .. believe you find traces of wounds
child. . . I will not complain
though a thousand needles drift through my veins
with my blood now festering
child. . . even if I had to block the ground
do not you drip your tears
better show
that my body is in your heart. . .
believe me son. . ..
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