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Jun 2019
***** water rushing down
From a mountain path of fake forgiveness.
Flowing into broken windows
Of what was once your home.

Winged creatures walking
Not using the splintered extra limbs.
Chant "four-eyes, four-eyes", oh,
My mutated eyes,
How they burn.

The smoke is rising, higher
Into my face.
Blow away.
Choking, wheezing, dying,
My family, where are they now?
Are they decorating the walls
You created with our now polished bark?

Take back your unapproved ways
And remove your mark.
Give back our wild lives, not leaving us as strays.
Stop claiming us as your property,
Because all of this was once ours only to us.
Pixie Shari Bonathan
Written by
Pixie Shari Bonathan  16/F/UK
(16/F/UK)   
298
   Bogdan Dragos
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