da Come uno Scialle di Alberto
Sighele
cleansing There's a gash tearing at my brain diagonally dumping me at the edge of the road leading me astray bent on hurting me definitely. With the right brake stuck I can't hold my lane my life is insane going to end up violently. It's the ethnical cleansing not letting me keep the attention on what I should: they win wars with the axe of television across brains they peel the skin off the other tribe to dress their own ladies and pride they hollow eyes out and display them in shopwindows as a lesson. The girls sees it and throws up. Religion blesses it plucks up courage and provides supernatural support. Was there really nothing we could do nor any way to cut it short are they really the only ones to feed their children on their own excrements the only ones to blackmail life? Have the profitable arms shipments the overtelevised simplistic version not made it so? Wasn't the choice of rotten political representatives the final blow to the movement of mothers against war about to reunite the crumbling country? Entire towns and villages are being pushed into mass suicide. My despair is our hypocrisy . Beyond the brink the precipice. |
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