A Mix of the Two
Imaginary lines drawn by thin branches, develop upon the leaves
connecting humans back to their foreign land.
Cockroaches feed on rotten apples that lie in the hands of the long-dead man.
Invisible chains attached to their ankles…
Making them half-human and immune to nuclear waste.
Breath was wasted by meaningless options, floating through a sea of opposition.
Sail away from the point, swim to the other side of the ocean in agreement.
Recognize the decision was a hard one to make.
Moving away from your roots, perpendicular from the trunk of the family tree.
Voices of angry men…forgotten... Loud voices silenced.
Sent into the wild to be recognized and respected.
Leaves, apples, branches.
They have the right to roam free.
Liberty.
This poem is closest to the Cento form.