We were once tall and proud,

We were once giants and kings,

We once lived in castles and rode on slaves,

We once ate where we had not sown,

We once drunk from the wells we did not drink.

Then the great famine came and along with it the desert locusts,

Our slaves died,

Our castles crumbled.

We survived but we became shorter,

Our noses hurt from the heat and we all shrank.

I look at my father now, once a gigantic king,

Reduced to a pile of ash for want.

We want, yet we were once kings.

We die, yet we ruled.

We barely survived our slaves,

We are now slaves to the dust daemon.



I brought with me a little boy from the big town,

Big and strong he was,

He rested daily on my bosom,

He reminded me so much of a rotting boat.


Every morning I watched him watch me from the mirror’s reflection,

Taunting me, reminding me of his eternal coarseness,

His hands rested on my face and stretched beneath my bosom,

He reminded me of my rotten handicap.


Today an officer came down from Probation,

The boy, angry, mouthed a curse,

He sulked and remained mum,

He makes me think of a rotting oak.


I carry him on my skin,

He clings to my rotting carcass,

He is now part of my eternal form,

Cruel, he is all too cruel.

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