Poetry

Once you are labeled,
The human input is out and
you start falling apart.

My home, and I am trying
to set the walls free after-
the explosion.

A sinkhole eats you alive.
I am walking in air
contending with the old god
who would not listen.

Suddenly it is time to
back drive. The wrong road
taken has given in glimpse
of people starting the war.

The land becomes black
and paper lanterns adorn the doors.