Mashell Chapeyama
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Tears are not unfinishable
In the ducts of my eyes
There are tears of joy
Have I bled tears of pleasure?
Mine are from deep my heart
Those of anguish, sorrow and self-pity.
To wake up to the rumbling of my hungry stomach,
To wake up with a starved mind:
Without books to read
Without games to play
Without music to listen to
And brothers and sisters to love you
