...My Comfort, My Reason to Hold On to the Ever Slipping World...Until I Can Cry...

The mob is screaming Echoing painfully in my ears, my swollen ears but If I can find a way  To break free of the mangled mess of bodies Then I can find  My Safe Tree, the one I escape to when life  Decides that I am too,  Far too vulnerable to fight back  Still   Still   I hang on to the gentle arms that  Surround my aching soul  Make me feel loved that way no one else has  My Safe Tree, my comfort  My reason to keep going  My reason to keep believing  My reason to hold on the ever slipping world  My reason  For crying at the dead of night while others sleep  My reason for standing stock still in the face of  Faces; dirty, sweaty, hard and evil  Because I am strong until  I can run to my Safe Tree and   Breathe

This poem is about: 
My country


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