3 parche
Imago mortis
Enter three persons, each one dressed in White, Gray and Black. One by one, they recite their terrible speech and leave.
Me:
White one said to me how thin my life supposed to be
Gray one called it delusion
White one said that I suffer from a doomed disease
Black one called it salvation and sin
White Gray Black spinners of this vulgar fate
The thread of life is not broken yet
I defy you to rewrite your lines
Redefine my part, rearrange all this play
Why me?
Why me?
Why?
Beautiful enough, Moon arises.
Me:
Why, sister Moon?
Why do paint my fate so gray?
Why, Three-in-one?
Do reduce me to this play?
Moon invites witches.
Me:
Vida!
Vida Trágica!
Witchat:
Mítica Lógica Quântica Trágica
Pérfida Sórdida Pútrida Trágica
Mágica Cética Cínica Trágica
Lépida Lívida Lúdica Trágica
Germinal Terminal
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