Tonight, the wind blows off the Baltic, slathering the streets in the putrescent perfume of decay. The hemoglobin run-off congeals in rainbow swirls like oily lily pads atop the sea. All my kin, slaughtered and reduced to stains on concrete. Our memories seep from the bedrock, fingers groping at the humans who paved over their genocide, thinking we were gone.
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hyphen punk 