khoi khoi
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for our past is a poem,
murdered by the hand, of death,
and our worth, diminished.
Our hearts were wild,
and free. Royalty!
portrayed as a mere,
fluke; death to them,
they shunted; Pain.
:tell me who we are!
and what the future
holds for us.
why the skin we wear,
is gold.
But through the decades
we were sold.
Our tales not told
and hearts from bold,
to weak.
BEHOLD!
