Innocence
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“If each person was raised from the fertility of a mother’s womb, then it is they who will die at the same level, being the fertility of black earth. For we begin in fertility, as we end in fertility. We walk, when alive, on beginnings and endings, of others.” – Modern Romanticism
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They, who crawled, naked, in grief, Were beside the forests, in failing sleep. Sinister shadows, were their playmates, Begging unto God, for piety’s absence. I slew, their lives, in amass, Emptied their reflections, in glass. For she, who called me abroad, To taste the banquet, of my dreams. She was, to the sinister playthings, A
