All the kings of Egypt were pussycats
compared to the tyrant that hold me enslaved,
for I cannot even think
without invoking my master's scourge.
He sows death in his fields and harvests me accordingly.
Oh, you should hear him scream
when the dove plucks me,
like seed from a furrow,
away from his grasp.
Sweet abolition of atonement tastes like cool water.
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