A hand held out, but left untouched,
it lingers there, it asks too much.
I see it, still I turn away;
some wounds are mine, and mine they stay.
Zu#104
By
By
A hand held out, but left untouched,
it lingers there, it asks too much.
I see it, still I turn away;
some wounds are mine, and mine they stay.
mvrcodelrio.com 
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