Can you hear their voices
Whispering
Of ancient Kmt,
Their eyeless gaze haunting you
While wandering between their
Glass cubicles
Should they not be airtight?
And yet you may be able to
Smell them,
A smell of millennia,
Disturbing and disturbed
They have been taken out of their tombs
Carried across the waters
Just to be locked up in
Glass boxes
Having to endure your stare
And returning it
And feeling misunderstood
Thousands of years have passed
A thousand faces being
Shoved along
Your resting place each day now
And no one ever wondered
If your Ba is able to
Pass through that security glass...
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