You look familiar, 

smell familiar,

you even taste familiar my dear.

Have I walked through all of your streets?

All of your hidden roads and narrow alleys?

Have I had your best to give?

Your worst to give?

Have you made me laugh enough?

Cry enough?

You certainly have!

Have I had enough of your bullshit?

Have you had enough of mine?

Did your traces find their way along my scars?

Or are they still exploring new areas to conquer?

Did your traces find their way along my scars?

…Or are my scars traces of you? 

You look familiar,

smell familiar,

but you have changed my dear.

I see you have collapsed

…I hear you cry at night. 

Or is it our cries echoing beneath your ruins? 

As you bleed, we bleed,

both knowing the wrong blood is being lost. 

As you weep, we weep, 

feeling our souls empty as never before.

Warlords resting behind your protective membranes

conducting a horror puppet show, no trailer involved.

Victims crawling on your floors

guts out, disfigurement and cries.

I see you’ve changed, 

we’ve changed as well. 

We’ve grown tougher and weaker, simultaneously,

boiling with rage and revenge.

Hands reaching out, for help and to help.

Hands reaching up, for mercy and for you.  

Survivor, bestowing their fractured hearts, upon you,

innocent children,

sent to fight

sent to fall 

sentenced to death

or sentenced to bleed their hearts out, 

cry their eyes out, scream their souls out, 

while the guilty look the other way.

Now I wonder, 

if we are still familiar to you,

if you still recognize us while we help pick up your limbs from the ground.

I look between your shattered glass and toxic ashes, hoping to find my missing heart, 

only to find the hearts of all your other lovers,

shattered beneath their remaining dreams and last breaths.

… Some still beating, 

… Some have surrendered. 

I dreamt about you last time;

You were still young and beautiful 

Still arrogant and a know-it-all 

A Phoenician descendant, mispronouncing words, appropriating Western lisps.  

Lionizing stories of pride with calligraphy and graffiti of goddesses on your walls, festivities and music on your streets. 

I walked your streets and had your overpriced beer, 

happily, 

only to wake up and realize YOU ARE GONE. 

I envied you for all that you were, all that we had made you out to be. 

Ugly in the naked light, we powdered your face and covered your scars with forgiveness. 

Disturbed at night, we sang louder and took part in a choreographed performance of art and war, until you sang along,

reeking from car beeps and screams. 

We gathered and united, we rose and revolted, danced and cried tears of joy in your name. 

You were cruel yet hospitable, you were greedy, 

but you were mine!

You were tough and never satisfied, 

so, we only challenged ourselves, mercilessly, to make you happy. 

Because nothing feels better than seeing you smile 

And nothing feels worse than seeing you fall. 

–

No, you weren’t graceful with your fall.

And no, we will not be cheap with our revenge.

Social smokers and sleepless worried minds gathered at 4 am, 

fireflies of joy and optimism. 

24/7 fast food stops and confusion over what to pick. 

Grumpy salesmen, and expensive shop rent, offering free advice. 

Introverts out, showcasing you to expatriates you loved, oh so much..  

They all surrendered and got lost in a switch of light,

you quickly metamorphosed into a decomposed body, 

monstrously devoured and spit out. 

Purehearted zombies, wandering in the night, wondering what they did wrong, 

unfairly condemned, imprisoned in the dark, no walls, no fences yet no place to run nor hide.

Plans of your revival, plans of blood feud and a vendetta,  

plans of woodwork, windows, and reconstructive surgeries.

You look familiar my dear, 

But I don’t know you anymore 

…