Launchorasince 2014
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Foreskin

Clouds swiftly covered the sky

It defies the imagination of man

You’ve been lodging under the shapeless clouds

Hearing a mute hum

May compare to how the sea was split

How I wish these filthy rugs can be washed by milk from the breast

The green hills are married unto you

Take away the foreskin of your heart

Don’t let your face be thicker than walls

The horse prepared for you will soon depart

Someone who knows your heart will pluck it and slaughter it

Surely it will bleed, but it will be redeemed

So that even the fire from hell can’t devour it...

Only then the leaves will applaud with the wind.