My mother is not dying
But as distant brothers and sisters lose their living
I can’t help but imagine her memory slipping
Unable to recount bad days in Burbanay
Singing songs of found peanuts in the rain
How do you reconcile being one in a million
Shouting silently in a sea of the same
Seeing seasons of violence but only shouting one name
“Support us now for when your democracy falls
While we take steps to kill them all”
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