Could it be that the unrelated burden forced on Nature’s
blush birthed a demon’s gloom wasting to cloud my smile?
Where does its journey end?;
when she sighs, saying,
‘behold my goal— a Star; bright,......far afield, out of reach’?
Is this enough to ruin because I won’t belong?
Your fresh-dawn will soon be here...
I am a game; a fast fleeing deer...
you can own only after bringing down with all you got;
a cruel, blind bullet.
Warsaw, 23:34 - 21/2/06
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