Where Do I Come From Comments

He was black as the night knitting on a blackberry.
Angry as the sea that consumed him and left him stranded there. When ever we spoke about our race,
when ever poetry or folktale were recited or spoken there was two wars the rest were ashes.
I asked mother to introduce me to the land I call home. She said she does know home, for she lost the navigation on the blue azure sea.
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