I left my shell
then crunched it.
It was the only food
I could turn to anyways.
I left my home
and burnt it down
Why’d I ever leave
Paradise?
These lands of hunger
and plight,
Men raging war, war,
warring against themselves,
against all tides,
raging on women
as low-l(w)ives
Nadia only wanted to
be her country’s pride
but all she got was a blight,
dyed black, thrown at-
tomatoes now, spikes then
my silent poem nobody reads,
repressed, in the land of God
on her skinned knees.


SF