SKY OF WOLVES

You must have seen that there are barely questions.
I write with a hand taken from the heart
and it hurts to feel that some birds
have been cut down with the same hand.
We used to be wild dogs
down tunnels where no one dares walk alone.
Nothing more than the flight of those birds of prey
and a pack of wolves at the front door.
The answers reside far from the questions.
They talk about truth with no emotion.

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