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Just this morning we sewed seeds;
I grew into his land,
And he coveted mine
My pristine paradise,
His barren wasteland.
But when the regime rolled in,
He refused to abide,
But I was young and full of pride.
His lands flourished, as mine died,
And they burned away no matter what I tried.
He lamented, pitying my dissonance,
His empathy begetting his glorious abstinence.
Their laws had crushed me beneath the rubble,
But his hand was held out, regardless my trouble.
I screamed his name; his rosy-red plot
Was covered in blood, a new crimson blot.
A stain on the world, just what could I do?
My complacency inadvertently causing his doom.
The sun now sets with sorrow on the sea.
The day is long gone, no happiness is free,
Because I forsook beloved land,