Migration

The child of a certain perception, Among your kinfolks poor reception, You just can’t endure irritation: It could make you leave your own nation, White men’s world declare your new station, Face the challenge of imitation… Then, it’s all yours: A quick migration, Your legs not swollen for gyration; On foot you cross waiting borders, Dumping your unreceptive brothers! For those with no more trusts in their world, Now, fully sure elsewhere they’re being called. Poor rating at home has their hearts galled; They’re bleeding guys beasts have mauled… Really, the future of stark dreamers, With hopes to play to the hilt schemers, As a first step they arrange a flight, In their countries tired of the fight: A will to understand a new clime, Note their guiltless actions now a crime! Still, migrants to keep in mind Swallow Foreign life they can’t continue to hallow Some might question “What sort of fellow? For life to a foreigner “Hello!