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I enter this poem the same way darkness is nesting in my body. These days, I've become too much of an artistic portrait dissolving in darkness. In my dream, the closest I came to light was in the blur. I laugh because where I come from, laughter could also mean that my jaws are tired of holding the pieces of pain stuck in my teeth. In Government class, I learn about the remote causes of the Biafran war. What rolled bodies into dust. What rolls bodies into dust? I shuffle between bullets and light. Perhaps, there wasn't enough light to see the entrance of the bullets. You see… See how our bodies have chosen to betray us. This body is Biafra. I want to be Ojukwu. I want to secede this flesh. Let me break out. War is starting and heavy paper planes are finally melting. I pilgrim towards a ray. The pieces in my teeth fall off. This is war.