The shadow grown chaos
Hearing one side of debate.
From that view,
Hours of television static
On the genocide of civil war.
Begging your pardon,
I thought you knew:
You wore the Yellow Rose of Revolution
Through the fair grounds of the State Rodeo.
What fly laid eggs up our noses
To make us believe in the worst of us
Residing only in the other?
Identities are complicated,
As are my emblems.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem