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Poor you

It either 'coronation' or some truths shoved down your throat with no regrets that launches the world into a dizzy subtle hate that pecks the reality of peasants wearing his masters shoes And your fate is choked and weighed down and the world keeps pounding, hating, drowning your existence cause there's no love or Justice when you're a filth with no worth   Your master believes submission is your natural state cause your ancestors taught you why would an ant  quarrel with a boot? Here you are afraid to have dreams and hope crying for your progenies impending peril and there's no knight or a hero in sight
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Written by
Born
Kenyan
Published
Oct 18, 2017
Lines·Words
21·107
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