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Even ants hate refugees

Lonely I reside in the shadow of tents, beside an anthill of insignificance, The occupants take no notice of me and why should they, I’m insipid waste, Growing weary and paranoid, I prod at the anthill with a stick seeking attention, A few ants come out to check, but go back in unruffled, it’s just that scruffy dumb kid, I walk away deflated and dismayed at my inability to rouse them into action, Fruitlessly probing at inanimate outcrops, just fills me with more inadequacy, Killing time killing the day nowhere to go nowhere to play, Hold on things are looking up, I’ve been given a mask, the ants won’t recognize me, A child in UNHCR camp, somewhere in the middle of anywhere, that’ll take him, By David Kavanagh

Copyright © | Year Posted 2020

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