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Eric Borglund

Alone

Running like wind

from the past

I have finally arrived,

In a foreign land

The safe land

The promised land.


Roaming the streets

I search for a familiar scent,

a familiar face, familiar sounds.

I try to find likeliness

in the earth

the fertile soil


This earth is not scorched

This earth is not battle scarred

I look

searching

hoping

I can't find it.


I should be grateful

I pretend to be grateful


But I’m not.

I am alienated

an outcast-

alone.



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