Sometimes I dream I was back in

My home country

Just a little west of Eden

Where bullets have wings

Where I have

Where I have a pulse

That speaks in the language

That only blood speaks

On the streets after you smell gun smoke in the air

I've never seen this

But I can imagine that there's a

Split second when you don't know

If you fired the bullet

When your hand is in the air

And your index finger feels something cold

But you can't remember how to move your muscles

'Til you look up and see

Your hand holding tight to your mother's fingers.

My blood looks blue on the outside

Red on the inside

And in the same way

You can say

I am tan on the outside

Brown on the inside

Baby pink dresses at the age of two

But my organs are colored baby blue.

That's the difference secrecy makes

When people hear me speak and they think

Of a girl they once knew

Who had it all mixed up in her head

Because they saw her brother raped

Or her daddy sent off to war.

If people hear me speak and they say "No

Not since another life"

They'd be so right

They could kill.

And I keep dreaming about my home country

When my veins had wings of their own

And they flew out of me

Miles and miles of history written on my arteries

Karma, written like yours.

In red.