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Wandering Monk Apr 2017
Cold wind blows through the bones,
Innocence will bite the dust in our souls,
Sing me a melody for my freedom,
Else give me a bullet and a gun,
Yesterday is a tale and tomorrow is obscure,
And here I am in present with my burning soul,
How can I breathe in the same, my brightness
While you are the angel who dance in my darkness..

— The End —