Palestine, my love
When are we going to embrace ourselves?
History is not a straight line; it’s a cycle.
We see brothers and sisters getting killed,
Children being tortured,
Over what?
Some invisible lines to lands that are not ours?
How would our ancestors feel when they’ll see that nothing has changed?
How would God punish all of the wrong heads in charge?
Oh, dear sacred lands,
forgive us and retain the blood on your soil
until it’s time to turn back your coin.
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