When I think about Buk and life

In the favour of your own irony
Choosing the comfort of the other
Leads you astray towards villainy
Which you inflict on your mother

Cry for the velvet skin to touch
This innocent stomach of life
Which gives you oh so much
Meaning and tasks to stay alive

Stroke the tired hands of motherhood
At a distance within arms length
Closer and closer into the woods
I only have a little left of strength

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