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It is when I am flying over borders
That I don't quite know where I belong.
Those sharp lines you see on the map
Don't exist in the real world.
They are simply illusions of what it's meant to be.
Illusions created to separate one human from another
With lines and walls and borders and fences.
I refuse to feel separate. I refuse to be a stranger.
I refuse to perceive anything as ‘foreign land’.
All land is my land. My land is your land.
All I know when I am on that plane,
Flying over land
I belong nowhere; I belong everywhere.