the humble task of mixing shit in soil
is one you don't forget nor yet how weak
the body turns and this duty is meek
you have been told this is no complex broil
requiring thought one day the seeds uncoil
out of the earth since it is light they seek
but now you have to work and not to speak
service to hunger means that you must toil
what has been spent is more than simple light
emerging from the heart but soon betrayed
into declaring more than it could bear
rather the product of some final fight
that you got into when you were afraid
how much would hang on just a single tear
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