Lying between his remains and the soil of his fatherland,
every living person now, no matter how sorrowful,
would trample his nothingness and his night.
God may have already forgotten him,
and a kind of disgrace—one might call it a kind of mercy—
is the alms offered by hatred
to delay his endless disappearance.
Created by LYCHEN(YUCHENLI), 2024
Chelsea, London, UK
Chelsea, London, UK
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