Deep Surface
Who made this world?
Who wants the blood?
Who wants the war?
Who wants the broken hearts?
After the absence returned
From its death on the flamed borders.
The absence that was buried under
The dirt and blood of their guilt;
The ones with the flag in the hand
And bullets in the pocket.
....
Who wants the broken hearts?
The ones who are soaked in sweat
On the New York subway at 3:00 AM,
Returning from the same portal.
The hearts that are being broken
Over...and over...and over...
Because they are broken;
From the harsh desert
To the deep ocean.
Who made the world
But I.
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