my arms

every morning, I
fold my arms
and their arms
and their arms
and sigh,
as I ask my mother
what breakfast will be

this country runs on
the decisions of some men
men that do not hesitate
to sell their mothers’ compounds
men that
ask to be buried with their
tainted currencies
adding fuel to their
hell fires
men who
leave their children for dead
on the banks of the people’s
curses,
men that will hurt you and
ask you
not to scream,
until the life leaves you and then
they aid your sibling in
their own filthy way
only for your brother to
go through the same thing
it’s a cycle and
it never ends

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