With the power to comply
you ask their forgiveness
for not knowing what is it
exactly that they want.
This is the way
to acceptance,
redemption through
surrender at sight
of the invader
like an animal pissing itself
in fear.
You have never had a right to the land.
None have, all families equally
roaming.
You that leave behind your property
in death's metabiotic redistribution.
But the work you have, the effort you
choose
to prostitute in unwholesome congress
with those motivated by the death-greed
of the species, instinct to devour and
die out,
consume with obstinate animal fury.
Dying is hard on the consciousness,
like a predator trailing you
and you have to live it out
just to forget that you are being
pursued.
We all want the same.
We pull and yank
down the curtain
and canopy
before the final act is out
so that we could hold on to the face
we wore playing the part.
