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March 1984

 

Why?

 

When one is flat

why do others

stab his back

rub his nose

in the dirt?

 

What kind of life

enjoys this so

is so small

that it must declare

victory! (?)

in a battle never fought?

 

How could you

my perfect Lord

forgive

when I, a dead man

would rather take them down?

 


Why?

A poem by Peter Rhebergen

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