I hold my hand
To the promise
Of freedom and hope,
While I look over the land
To just see smoke.
The smoke from the chambers
From where they died
Because they were just strangers
And they couldn’t hide.
I wear his star on my wrist,
With my tattoo on their list.
Their flag waving high
While the smoke rises into the sky.
Our promise starts to bleed
All of the pain and creed
We have held it to be.
Our promise is in the form of two wings
Tying us to strings
While we wait for the day
When we won’t be on display
Or for the day when their flag won’t be waving high
While the smoke of his people rises to the sky.
The tattoo on my wrist
And the number on their list
Tells them I am next
To be annexed
And rise to the sky
After I die.
After I write this,
I will be caught
So please
Forget me not.
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