Years of smog
Blurred eyes
Low grass slope
Swallows are faintly visible.
Come back from where
A river that once flowed.
A market where people used to come and go.
Former parents, friends
Only trees stretch their arms.
It's raining.
I am alone.
Like a flower field in a dream
There is a complaint
Into a silent cry
Who gave it to them?
The right to war
Who is still standing on the top of the cliff?
Laugh obscenity
A bunch of fucking bastards