Way to the peak
In
the
grave
of
depression,
One
midnight
I
talked
with
God
rudely,
Saying
that
He
doesn`t
have
justice
at
all,
Devils
doing
injustice
are
roaming
happy
Without
having
punishment
for
their
sin!
I
teared
my
own
hair
out
in
a
frenzy
of
grief,
Called
him
an
unjust
judge
sitting
on
the
thorn
above,
The
blind,
dumb,
deaf
and
silent
on
all
injustice,
I
cried
and
screamed
with
my
highest
.....
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