The one
who doesn’t cry
doesn’t suckle.
I cry
every day
but I don’t suckle
from the breast of censorship:
it doesn’t nourish.
You’ve let them in
and they took your ranch.
Now you are forced to love
in another language.
The one
who doesn’t cry
doesn’t suckle.
I cry
every day
but I don’t suckle
from the breast of censorship:
it doesn’t nourish.
You’ve let them in
and they took your ranch.
Now you are forced to love
in another language.