Massacre

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They snapped our pencils between their fingers,
They filled the trashcans with our precious words,
We almost let them take away our voice,
But still our papers kept the fight alive,
They laughed at us in the halls and classrooms,
They dismembered our faiths, hopes, dreams, and loves,
With cruel, pointed fingers they cast us out,
With blind eyes they refused to see our dreams,
Yes, with tired minds, tired hearts, tired souls, we wept,
With us was our enmity and pain,
They spread the dark over we silent few,
Irrevocably, it altered us all,
Augmented, changed for the better are we,
From their shackles we're now and ever free.





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