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A rustic road colored with orange,
Extinguishes the restless mind's kid.
Flying missiles and pinpoint books,
All hit lives down the great hill.

An argument over what he saw right,
Turns out to attract even more hate.
He, the fool, who strikes without a heart
And a thought for oppression for the oppressed.

Theivery over something that was theirs,
Yet to them - nothing - to us - memories.
They say they have interest in our best,
But They take away happiness, joy - bring regret.

Do they even understand or comprehend
The resilience that They create within?
Their lack of acceptance draws us further away.
I - Embarrased to be associated with They.


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