in my country

…in my country,
the path to home is so shameless

while other nations chart
a pathway to the moon and back

we can’t trace the road to work
without being crushed beneath a tilting truck

we can’t find our way back home
without dancing the surugede of potholes

we can’t see what lies ahead…
how fortunate are we expected to tread?

…in my country,
the road to home is called RIP

whenever we crawl this road
two things are involved

Rest in peaceReturn (home) if possible

only a handf...