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It rains agonic in the Easter's night
and I'm feeling more godless than Thomas. Through the walls of my house the rain makes a way for itself. The building's ground coat splits by the acid splashes and the water flows in me from the graven sky. The harsh lightning hews light from the lights of some undreamed beliefs. My nature gets numb, lost in desires. And then the thunderblast makes a shattering noise, breaking my ear drum, when I glance at the stove, lost on the cellar's stairs. It rains agonic in the celestial night, but I can feel the damp no more, mere my muddy and dreary voice echoes in abyss.
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