From the Smoke

From the smoke rise hands and fall,
They shout for help and loudly call,
Yet no one hears, and no one cares,
Except that boy who from the corner stares.
Babies breathed their last breath,
And their mothers wept at their death,
Yet who cares, you’ve got to move on,
Who cares if what happening is right or wron’?
Once upon a time there was a city through which,
A river rushed with many a twitch,
Then one day suddenly, how no one knows,
The water in it dried up, and led to chaos.
Flowers died, leaves withered, trees fell down,
Men died, women deceased, and children passed on,
The birds died and went to meet their maker,
And the animals in the jungle all kicked the bucket.
Now where is that city, it’s still there,
Though its inhabitants we have seen rare,
From a ship they descended hundreds of years ago,
The original inhabitants for them were a foe.
The city has grown big houses and tall sweatshops,
Gone are the days when the fields grew crops.
They will learn their mistake one day I know,
And they will have to stoop down and low,
When they learn what they did was wrong and unfair,
And they learn at what the boys from the corner stare.

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