Day: 16 December 2020

Compersion

I can’t feel bad if good you do;
I can’t rejoice when you so rue.
I can’t say lies and myself fool;
I can’t break that unspoken rule.
For in you I see the holy spark,
Which does guide me as well in the dark.

We Shall Meet Again

My asymmetric assumptions, they bury
twisted tales of absurd desires
How I learn to hide my wound and heal
worshipping the new face of the devil!
A filthy business to revamp my soul
coated with skimmed pinks
of the blood moon from your sky

The Soldier With the Port-Wine Stain

So, tell me, when you see the face of the governing body of this great land and all they uphold as true, this fairy tale they call democracyโ€ฆdo you see a faultless image, like a dream without any error at all or do you see it? Do you see the port-wine stain? Red and glaring? Signalling like the truth? May the spirit of my forefathers, the calloused over hands of the blue-collar workers, and the sackcloth covered corpses that line the front lines, as Iโ€ฆmay you be the port-wine stain on this country now.

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