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Oasis
Poems
Mar 2016
POVERTY ISLAND
Oh our high land
has carelessly been made
low by our own hands
Our gold are sold leaving
us sleeping in the cold
The comfort blanket is being
removed from our bodies
by the strangers we gave the
opportunity to spend the night in our abode
The ones we had called
in out of the cold had
Wickedly thrown us out in the cold
taking dominance on our gold
Lunacy makes way as brothers
stood against brothers
The hands that were dependent on
by the masses became independent
They fed their mouth to the
brim rather than feeding
the people
People are loosing weight
while their pockets are gaining
weight and strength
They cut off with their own hands
hands that place them in power...
Written by
Oasis
28/M/lagos
(28/M/lagos)
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Peter Praise
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