the ink drop bleeds from my wound of the past
how beautifully, it drops throwing my mask in the sheet
like the vapours colliding the sky
the exuberant eye-catching landscape
drip , drip it falls on the paper, from my breath to my leg
from my mind to the tree that made this paper
I give my fragrance, wrapped in a fur to my words.
I give breath to my scratched skin
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