Like a government resettling
Attempt
For returning you to the country
Of your birth
Not having made it on the
Dark Continent.
The period of adjustment hurts
It’s painful sapping of last energies
Through internal domestic strife
Or with some old friends
Eye to eye
Naked soul to naked soul
Until you absolve the grand
Internal catharsis.
It’s a witness protection to a world
One does not wish you to know
But to have powers over you
Smoothly forcing you to the knees.
Of course.
An artist always finds a way
Past the censor of his mind structures
In a speedy effort
The censor is asleep to react
Or has failed to detect and find.
Failed.deliaF
zoltanzelan
ZJG-POetry’18.