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Replying to a comment on:
lament and retrograde (Free verse) by Don-Quixote words
quiet sighs
chaining me
yet, my hands
are deformed
not fit to hold
pen or pencil
with eyes
non compos mentis
directing its course
obstinate, demand to be given
a wheelchair since
legs do not have strength
to stand or walk.
too proud to crawl
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