I feel like an alien to this land.
From my home, the salty sea stretches beyond.
I, simply a guest, in their land.

The locals intrigued
By new faces indeed.
"Who are you?" they inquired.

Bizarre customs, they practice.
Locals preaching power over peace.
And where the rich the presiders please.

Forbidden it is to own a dove,
Therefore many resort to the hawk.
For shooting a dove is a national pastime.

To shoot the hawk is a felony.
Thus the dove population begone.
The locusts came and the sweet fruits gone.

In observation, I pity them.
The problems cannot be tamed.
Should I just go back?

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