Protect Your Site!
They Are Our Children Bronze skin, burnt almost charred brown like the muddy river, turned giant waves in the Tsunami Eastern sun, beat on backs eyes a likeness to a Chinaman Many children with children, bought and sold for the price of a studio apartment in New York City Patrolling these streets, men decked in uniforms take bribes murmur threats bargain for more rupees, as civilians visit the brothels simple fun, torture Countless children caged and drugged marinating 'til their turn, like their mothers Heroism is dead here any means of survival, akin to animals, sell his relative even his own daughter. Hunger, drives him to it |