The people

Because our bodies still hang on trees, they call us monkeys

Throw banana peels on our paths to watch us slip through the cracks of history,

To buy tickets to our cinematic slavery, our cinematic shows illuminating the invisibility of our existence,

Fading into the broken loops of mankind giving birth to itself.

Chaining our families in Libya,

Shooting our families in churches,

Leading our families astray.

To realise that these walls we have broken down are only segments of the trailer,

Pieces of objects man cannot hold with his immoral hands, because he only speaks the language of master and slave

Spits out verses of whips and shackles as he blesses himself with our blood, baths in our forgiveness,

For our hearts are carved by the hand of God so who are we not to overcome,

Though they…

Chain our families in Libya,

Shoot our families in churches,

Lead our families astray.

They go about hunting us like animals, and though we flee we do not stay hidden in fear,

For only one side prevails in battle.

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