The sky in a variegated blue,
Looks kike it was dressed in the 80s,
Love songs on the radio,
Bring back time, absent minded time,
When I look outside and see
Though without seeing anything-
It is my fight with immigration,
Maybe my plea with Geneva-
But do they care for solitary
Dreams half a decade old…
I have read and re-read the truth,
My story, the story of 3 million,
Who through God’s grace
Are yet to meet his gentler face…
Pain is pain and like love is fleeting,
Fleeting, fleeting, memories of life…
But they don’t have love here!
The city bleeds with violence and guns,
The incinerators are cloudy with abortions,
The rich gloat as the powerful oppress;
‘Which one,” I cry, “of these 7 hells?!”
The metal sky is clouding over,
