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￭ Epistle of a millennial
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2012-02-08 | |
As outside the street dogs were licking their own wounds,
looking for people to caress them a little,
the wolf was walking in a too small cage
for his begged freedom,
a sad body, always hungry,
his teeth were glittering on a certain radius of the circle
with deep anger.
When the fatigue entered him
He slept and dreamed a borderless land.
We left, and the sounds
in the neighborhood almost lost their lives, the wilderness
Then, as when you get used after breathing a couple of times,
Everything got back to normal.
It is like a reconciliation I thought,
Like the moment you put your hands out for the hungry dogs
Jumping around you to lick your fingers, but suddenly stop
just before hurting you, they never cross the line.
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