Where sits the sense of self
that will not allow itself
to be treated so?
The flame
lit from the original spark
that chose to bring such a creature
breathing, crying, screaming into this world,
that you now allow to be extinguished
by one so low,
where is it?
Where are you?
You see,
I watch you,
with your forsaken
abandoned
splendour
run whimpering after the dog
that would cock its leg to use you
as a tree.
I watch you,
confused that another might dare,
so brazenly
to forget you.
Even though you have long forgotten
yourself.
Where is your sovereignty?
Where is the regalia of strength and fortitude
your forbears bled for?
Where on this earth
did you leave it?
And when,
when
when
do you plan to take it back?
