2 october 2024
Sending My Hymns
Make my path,
my dust. I want to leave
my bloody footprints.
Half-moonblind I
was collecting the tears of moon.
Dewdrops hang from my eyes.
Now where we go to
get our wounds healed up?
God was always sleeping?
4 june 2025
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Eva T.
3 may 2025
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