Dispossession

it is to see a traitor go free

it is to feel a filter in me

it is to leave the lights that I saw

it is to ask: is it easy to go

in this dead hour

here with you

seconds are worthless

in this dead hour

when all is blank

minutes are worthless

how long will it take until

there will be room again for hope

it is so sad to see

dispossession

it has become my obsession

it is to have a knife in my back

it is to say my soul got a crack