Whatelse can say,
What can I do?
When a barrel of a gun
Is shoved into the neck of my agony.
Do I cry for bread,
Or do I cry for freedom?
From ugly minds whose belly is hell?
Am I any special?
Or am I, at least, human?
To tread like a cow for their pockets,
As they milk my degrees?
They eat the meat of my wage.
Their beef with me, like wolves,
Sits in the plates of their children.
Do I die with grief,
Or do I live with love?
To depart with an everlasting smile,
Loving them still,
Loving the color of my blood.
To wicked leaders or Governments