The Nails


nails grow for a fortnight
a child with no hair yet on his upper lip
eyes wide open
to pretend to suavely stroke his forehead

one's long nails into his tender breast
one drinks the blood
licking the wounds
the boy cries

Haven't you ever tasted your blood?

tears of your true love
those hoarse shrieks of death

What shall become of me on the Day of Judgement?

Forgive me child!







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