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David Fesenco Feb 10
In the bliss of a given chance
there are heartbeats in a trembling rhythm.
i ask God why he gave me these hands
when i can't even help myself with them.
If anyone likes this I will post the full poem
Every slave must abide by its master.
The bitterness of carrying out
any action that will benefit others.
There’s no shame in not having choices
but there is in not having doubts.
Far beyond an ultimate freedom,
an excuse for an absence of self,
there is life overpowering reason,
and a reason overpowering death.
Being found in a state of despair,
stripped of respect to the bone,
a necessity more needed than air
to a slave – is a slave of its own.

Every slave must abide by its master.

Kneeling before what is stronger
or standing before what is weak,
is a future that cannot be wronger
or a past that could not be more bleak.
Far beyond understanding and meaning,
there is craving devouring men,
be it owning or knowing, or being,
it is always a mark of the end.
The imminent burden of pain
perishes as soon as you delve
into waters that can wash you away.
Every slave is a slave to himself.
Here I am and here I’m not,
and, will never be again.
Prisoner to my own thoughts;
way too mortal for a man.
When you’ll see me talked my lips,
life be drained and be I dead,
place two tulips on my chest,
pray for me, and then forget.
Close my eyes
and let me rest.

— The End —