My mama send prayers
and hit the clouds for rain
I sow every season
To keep the bag full
I don't want the bloodline
to depend on leftovers
Hatred and betrayal
made me
I hate reminiscences
They don't understand my
language
Because I keep my focus
on what will continue to live
when I am dead
I know the pain of getting into
a battle with no back up
I need pain and poverty to
become extinct in my bloodline..

●○Buven ThePoet●○