How bitter it is when tears and blood are mixed.
Rod pushes me to stir
Oysters of joy and fear
With ounces of mud
Entering through the pod
Nagging at me from birth
And up to death!
Mixture of tears and blood
Orienting me to what I have
Nostalgic pain and grief
Evoking and urging like a theft
Saying what will I reap?
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