The Refugee - Poetry

in #poetry6 years ago

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I am lost: searching; hoping; praying
for a place to call home;
just moments into my journey,
I stop to look back.

The mere sight
churns and burns within my belly;
I fantasize: striking a match
to burn my previous dwelling.

They offered liberty
while gripping the rug
and I entranced by oil:
extracted from snakes.

But these fake alchemists
only multiplied lead,
while hoping for liberators
to vindicate.

I want to burn them all,
both sinner and saint;
to be the alchemist
transmuting your pity to rage.

But alas, I speak only in code;
my complicity lures patsies.
I am lost: searching; hoping; praying
for a place to call home.


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