Through my window

I see you there, waving. It's been a long year for you, again. Long couple hundred years. You've been beckoning me to call you home for a long time. Waving every day. But do the people you call your own, deserve to live any better lives? Why do we deserve to make so much more? To purchase toilet paper. To get cancer through a pipe or through fake lights. Thanks for waving, I guess. Flag.

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