I'm jealous of all you
with blue crosses tattooed to your backs.
You, that have hope
draping around your necks on chains
and hymns bleeding from your eyes.
I'm chanting my way
through the swamp,
"please, please, please,"
as if my politeness
is all I'll need.
And yet, I'm trying to cross the road
a blind mole.
So please, just leave me some
tall grass to bed down in.
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