Genocide

It’s funny how they tell you, when they first take you, how this is the New World.

This is the real society. These are real people. These are real skills.

Why wasn’t I real before?

I sit and watch my youth, full of shame with what I’ve become

-No -

With what they made me. Crafted me. Poured me into a mold. Cut my hair. Changed my clothes. Burned me. Beat me. Left me with nothing of who I was.

The loss of my native tongue.

The loss I carry on.

We never did anything wrong. We were just as real and civil.

Funny we’re the savages when they’re out seeking wars.

I’ll never forget, and I’ll never forgive.

There’ll never be enough for all the scars I still hide.

Even the ones that can’t be seen.

But never is a long time when you have nothing left.