Here lie
Here lie my father and my mother each as they were, separated countries for whatever reason. Their ashes did not end up in the sea, their names came from the wind. Silence finally reached them.
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Future Holocaust
Future Holocaust My country is not bread and wine. My country are the ruined cupboards keeping us from devouring worms. My homeland is the rain which made the cupboard a hotbed of moss. It is combustion and heartbreak. My country is us, the ones formed out of the flood.