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The Bolan Mail


Now as I writhe in pain
in misty dawn
with twisted back
and sleepless crimson eyes,
my fear turns to anger,
and resentment against myself,
for believing that you cared.

It was gullible to believe
that Islamic discoveries,
hurtling across desert nights
and the Bolan mail offer
to share one life with another,
had been accepted,
or even understood.

But I dared to dream
there would be no banishment,
no orphaned cries,
no abandoned wails
of hooting trains at night,
and that the Bolan mail
would run through my life.

But you derailed all that,
and did not stoop or stop,
or look back even once,
to see the wreckage you left behind.