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My People
My people are the ones who love to laugh in play,
but they never get a chance because they get hurt everyday
Live really far far away,
pushed through,
In to the dirt, no one cares if they get burnt.
My people are the ones who pray everyday,
Even if theres no such thing as a sunny day,
They keep on striving keep on fighitng,
There hungry they got no food.
My People are the people who are being terroised by ISIS,
or as they call themselves the "Islamic State". They bad people
they aint no muslims, people like that have no religion and no
truthful vision.
My people like to sing a whistleing toon,
And cook and clean
while watching arab cartoons
My people are the ones being whipped,
Pulled down to the ground getting stripped,
Stripped of there own humanity, this is profanity
My people gotta stay up at night,
Make sure no one comes in
make sure no one tries to arrest them,
and throw them in jail with the rest of em
My people are the ones tryna escape,
leaving everything behind if thats what it takes.
My people are parents, kids and daughters,
Christians and Muslims being all put to slaughter
Getting washed up on shores,
trying to escape the terrors the middle east brings to there face.
My people need help, you need to listen,
If you dont listen now this may be the last time,
before in the middle east the dark hour chimes.
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i didnt really know what to put this under soo.. i guess poetry