We have sown hornets and cicadas
These 17 years, the brood sup on pomegranate sugars, dates and the pollen of poppies.
The cicadas shall rise of great expectations
Shall end having eaten only air
Whither their will to dare?
The hornets shall spring forth expecting violent death
Shall revive, to sting black & blue,
The retarded of the brood
Who shall retreat, clacking,
As scorpions overnight.
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