We, Unclean

Do you sense the depression of the earth?
Nothing seems as powerful as not being seen.
Never knowing how much one’s self is worth.
Say goodbye to that pained mind, unclean.
Look at the cruelty of life’s decisions
and try not to laugh at other’s poor state.
Keep together one’s delicate composition
but observe the value of one’s own fate.

This poem is about: 
My country
Our world

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