No More Room
They came with flags,
and I lost my name.
They built borders
on my breath.
They filled the sky with noise
and left no corner quiet
for my dead,
my songs,
my silence.
I walk through ruins
they call nations.
I speak in tongues
they call extinct.
What if I could undo them?
Not with guns —
but with forgetting.
With turning my back
so far
that they vanish
like dust.
I don't want war.
I want absence.
I want a morning
where they never came.