Head in the ground, famine filled mouth. The splendor sunk into the heinous sand. Over and across the barrens I followed an echoing chant; a makeshift ballad. It spoke of the cruel, of the false, of the adrift. Dismal days have arrived with a familiar face. Cement conscience; I became a moving statue. Stagnant shame; surrounded by meddlesome sneers. Painting a bitter reflection, for the limbs I left on the shore. Inventing a crumbling portrait, for the language disguised in the passing.

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