Broken Nation Affliction and Plea

Published by Vann Rhyme on

the ugly writers

Children noises on the streets
Gunshot powder in the air
Bodies scattered on the streets
Pollution is everywhere
Chairs filled with rocks
Weigh heavier on half
Treasures with locks
Stomach never been half
Is resources a curse?
Why we’ve been down here?
Is vigor never enough?
Can we able to get up
Years past so quickly
This heart have been grown
Gallons of affliction, the loudest plea
Up until now long been down.


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