Safe in blue,
even what we think
cracks the whip
of memory, in those moments
when mothers call our names,
only to be mocked
by the echoes of Chisiya.
Because a look so distant
that even Runde will question
why they have to keep looking
will be pocked by stray flies
which too do not know
what to report, where even they
can now declare starvation.
The safety is now in
the hell we have created
which sings in fear
of what we might do
had we stayed a few more months.
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