Where can I rest?
in a land of famine,
none at it's best:
not under the mourning sky,
devoid of sweet hopes-
of still moonshadow
not in the farmfields,
not in the scars of history
not in the battlefields
not under the whimpering
voice of democracy
Where can I rest?
not in your pride
away from your sight-
far from any emotional
dilemmas
Where can I rest,
when all I can see is dirt black
where there are shadows
running everywhere
where there is
no room of my own
where there is
only me
and my
solitude.
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