Like a melody that was meant to erode
Away the mud from your heart
About me, I wish the next day brings
To you the love that I couldn't bring.
In a narrow channel of aches, I sing
Of the blood we failed to donate,
Like the wealth that flows streamlined
Around the edges of structures divine
I see the waste we have made
Of something pure, but fragile.
I see, for that's my blessing and curse,
In a hope that these words would nurse
The wounds their ancestors caused,
If possible, the bad, and the worse.
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