A Villanelle for Weary Ones

Tue, 12/26/2017 - 23:59 -- carm123

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.

This poem is about: 
My country
Our world

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