In the end

Love is not an end,

to finish itself fed on likeness,

to another man’s love,

as if it is a general case of amnesia,

to fight the body on any upturn,

I need the diagnosis not of man,

for the soul of the horse who,

has led to many victories and,

has fallen silent to the rain,

thrashing the tin roof. In the end,

it is love joy.

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