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Worn Out Relic
O Lord,
'Tis a decade gone
Since thy curse fell upon us.
The malnourished children are no more,
The poor soil lieth barren.
Lord, what hast thou wrought upon our village?
Mine only companions be the flies and the toads.
Thy shadow resteth beside mine empty grave.
I am not wroth with thee,
Yet surely have I all the right to be so.
Copyright ©
Henrique Pileggi
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