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A Villanelle for Weary Ones
i come from a land of blood
i immigrant, i survivor
Land of Liberty a ghosting drug.
better life they say, tired eyes: dead rosebuds
like shallow graves, the home of snipers
i come from a land of blood
i burn holes, drowning in the flood
rotting flesh pulling at each fiber
Land of Liberty a ghosting drug.
i want to burst, bullets showering abrupt
words fumble, foaming; now or never
i come from a land of blood
black as dusk, heart empty hands full high-strung
i don’t belong here either
Land of Liberty a ghosting drug.
i spin. the world spins. i succumb
hello. i nobody. you neither
i come from a land of blood
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Land of Liberty a ghosting drug.