A people are running out from the pages

Their loads are heavy, their voices weary

If you turn away and don’t look at them,

They fade into a whisper.


A people are erasing their history

A memory of pain, a page of anger

They know rage explodes suddenly

And sometimes spill over them, like acid.


A people want me to forget

They don’t want their story told

But oblivion is a faraway fantasy they cannot die in

Until I write with my blood and tears.




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