the shells are dropping
and they're not stopping
we run out to the streets
we hear the clashes
here come the facist
as they stomp to a beat
heavens thunder over
as we hunger for cover
nowhere seems to be safe
machines guns are clapping
while our children are napping
so we run, run away
the walls all lay shattered
as our lives don't matter
in the eyes of the few
they beat us around
while we're still on the ground
they dimiss the truth
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My writings and poems
I don't think i'm a good writer. I don't even think I'm good at anything, and if you want to waste your time reading these so called 'poems' go right ahead. I'm just sorry they're not as great as I would like them to be.
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