by Marcello Comitini World of salt masksshrouded in the fog of atrocitiesdo not touch me with your handsstained with blood and greedy deception.I want to escape, fly farawayfrom your filthy life,a canvas woven with sordid plots,cries of power and arrogance,of revenge against those who knowand do not share.They are rare flowers that bloomed without your knowledgegrown …







