Not so long ago we were made orphans                                                          ­                                                        Plucked form the family tree that grew us into a nation                                                           ­                                        Phobia struck us like cholera                                                          ­                                                                 ­          Religion armed us against our brothers                                                         ­                                                                Leaders occupied with zero point agenda.
.
Blood, our special kind of rain                                                             ­                                                                 ­           poverty, the only completed government project                                                          ­                                                                 ­                                                Corruption, our newly designed flag                                                             ­                                                                 ­  And breath, our only hope.
.
Empty caskets call silently for our body                                                             ­                                                             As we shoved old bones to make room for new ones                                                             ­                                         Our pain covered with GREEN and WHITE paints                                                           ­                                                          Pain, pain all over and over again.
.
We've found a new home                                                             ­                                                                 ­                           Back in the ruins, where we came from                                                             ­                                                                 ­ Let's mske our tents,and forget fishing traps                                                            ­                                              Because we might be here for an hundred while.

Drunkpoet