Gentle breeze
in a hurricane,
a single flower growing
from pain.

Your humanism is my
feudalism, your metaphors
my euphemisms.

schisms, excisions from
my soul,

biopsy my biological
to study
minute hands I
can’t control.

One man’s war is
another’s invasion.

A nation’s rise to
power means the
others’ occupation.

Your ghettos mean my
kingdoms, my paradise
your slums.

Your happiness is my

storm clouds hide
my sun.

If my rights have crossed
your wrongs,
a nameless darkness that
you call Hope,

forgive me.

My vigilantism is
just another mirror
in this

3 thoughts on “Kaleidoscope

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