hand me over to my fire
so the voice of the last choir
may purify my every sore.
Once I die,
turn me into ash
so that I become a flash
of wings that fly.
Once I am gone,
remember to be free,
pay attention and see
when truth is overthrown.
When I no longer belong in here
I shall become blood and ink
in a world that will never think
this heart was ever insincere.
3 de julho de 2017
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