Small migrants stretching their feet far
Father is driftwood
drowning down a diluted flag
He cannot hold them safe
What would you do?
They skinned his childhood
Put a gun in his hand
Kill or die, kid
And he did
They tell me
There are no victims here
All I see are tombstones
ticking for exoneration dates
Mama's lullaby echoes
Don't Look Back.
They sold her young
The price too low for the foal
Just another girl
To be stuffed into the mattress
To be shoved into the wall
There is no better gauge
than by how we grow the little children
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