DIRTY DEEDS DONE DIRTY CHEAP
Tranquil sands of a fallen land,
Held no place within an empty hand.
Tyrannical birds, with bombs in flight,
Riddling the air, on souls alight.
"We, the prey of this haughty reign,"
Offering no space for the cooking flame—
Hungry bones that crave for justice,
Blind, the vultures—drowned in malice.
Copyright © RUMIZ YOSHIKAGE | Year Posted 2025
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