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I'm not a murderer

Pain is a single mother, gray and terribly fat, with an uglier face than any other in the world except for a slut's face. She cares about you faithfully feeding you from herself. While you, from her wrinkled breasts, suck the last drop of clotted loneliness infected with agony and horror you feel powerful:

And it seems like you could shoot a rabbit and it seems like you could kill a man and it seems like you could sever a child's head and it seems like you could write a poem. Pain raises you either as a murderer or as a poet.

This poem is courtesy of Bihać Calling.

Photo is courtesy of Elvin Dervić.

#BihaćCalling #poetry #creativewriting

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