Echoes of Errors --Itty Bitty
Our heroes past ate on the platter of pain,
in their gravesite we pick grapes of gain.
These living dead have nothing to offer,
they plough and plant...for posterity to suffer.
We are a generation aborted after birth;
alive yet dead in the domain of dearth...
These political parrots speak of change;
but the echoes of their errors sound strange!
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