Zywa
The wild boar came
The beasts from outside carry daggers
on their head and have rough hair
they don't let rot anything, they eat
what is weak, almost dead
or already deceased, so is life
and it is good that way
Without you from now on
because the wild boar came
a ruffle in the distance
their snorting at the door
the black of their eyes
deep as the universe
Nothing is left, everything remains
and runs away on fast legs
The wild boar eat everything
They are good friends
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