Hong Kong, a poem

a convention was signed, forced upon unequaland then there was the 99-year sequeland so I was born, all alive and freeuntil Victoria granted letters patent to thee and George -- well, he got it wrong more than rightfrom harbors to railroads to cities walled by blightand as the people suffered from poor sanitationthe answer was…

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lost, a poem

It started when I stepped off the bus. The overwhelming sensationof pain, emptiness, and hesitation of something lost and something hidden. What is this?I saidto myself, for there was nobodyor head there but the air. I looked aroundand the bus was leavingand I thought to chase after itbut I knewI knew that what I was…