who swallowed my value
captured my living style by swords
when soul has not yet separated from flesh
i heap up stones
straight night bears enough cold
eyelids desperately protect eyes
the thoughts of mediocre persons are aged snakes
strange sadness tortures me
a man arming with love is bound on the stake
the heat of flames burns my sight
the native cannot produce prophets
no kindness anywhere
a mouth speaks good and bad
god was betrayed
run for it
someone touched my hamstring of thigh
an then, i knew who i am
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