Poem: Tread on Me
It’s okay to tread on yourself. I don’t care. I don’t mind.
It’s what I thought it’d be. It’s what I knew you’d be.
The flag is raised and flows free in the wind. It never stops moving.
You made certain that flag never belonged to me.
I’m not from your city. I’m not part of your plan.
You made this clear. It's what you didn’t say.
You only see the snake in the grass for what it represents.
It strikes enemies close and far away.
Steer your eyes down. Your enemy looks like you too.
It slithers below and the flag is only fabric in your hand.
It’s not all powerful. It’s not the true answer.
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