Monday, 4 April 2016

A Palestinian's Poem

Empty shells lie scattered across our lands,
streams of crimson flow alongside the corpses that lay.
We are being slaughtered for reasons we do not understand,
and now we're worried that we'll be killed for wanting to pray.

Their soldiers invade our country and shoot without cause,
and they enjoy slaughtering children and mothers.
They thrive on flowing blood as they bring their relentless wars,
as they fire more of their Palestinian killing bullets into my sisters and brothers.

Our screams are loud but the world remains deaf,
our blood is everywhere but the world will remain blind.
They've put a veil up on the cameras so as to hide our deaths,
and get away with all of their plots and schemes they're behind.

They control the media so they control the people's minds,
everyone is too ignorant to use their own brains
and realise the truth and unravel every single one of their lies.
They give no value to our lives as we are slaughtered day and night,
for simply living on land that does not belong to them.

Hear my cries, see my tears; feel my pain,
I write this with a bullet stuck in my leg.
Please open your eyes and see the same,
you will see nothing but blood and death.

This is the poem of a Palestinian before he died,
and we are still blind to their pleas and plight.
For how long shall we turn away from a terrible truth,
How would we feel when we look at the place where their bodies lie? 

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