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Jun 19
Young entrails, crisply pasted on the tarmac —
Shotgun shells, spinning on the other tarmac.
One, two, three — weren’t they meant to be rubber?
Teargas canisters, flung at our brothers.

Go fetch!
“I will make a bridge, a dam, a new tarmac.”
Go fetch!
Then our many lots are tossed to the gutters.
I weep for my and many countries
Samuel
Written by
Samuel  22/M/Kenya
(22/M/Kenya)   
29
   Danika
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