Hunting for Ivory: Poem |

in #hive-1611557 days ago

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Price becomes everything
on eternal paths
when vehicles pass by
become frozen buildings
or historical traces carved in the dark
destroyed in the footsteps of anger

You become pests
and enemies who are shot

Stained power in the hands of the trigger holder
chopping lives according to the party agenda
not looking at the sun-leafed jungle
because the eyes of the heart become rare animals

The hammer also moves to the circus arena
its beats become hunters' drums
piling ivory on the wall
become a sad song
become a sad life
become the hell


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