Inheritance

Blank eyes,

a detonator

a trigger mechanism;

They stole our heritage

from us,

they made us forget

all we once were,

they made us bury

our dead,

we buried our dead

in autumn;

Autumn is a time of slow dying

there is no need to hurry,

the leaves will have time to shrivel

the branches of the trees will be denuded,

the leaden clouds will drift across the sky;

Blank eyes,

a detonator

a trigger mechanism;

Now there will be nothing more.

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