I died twice seven times.  
Been at the gate selling lies.  
Felt surprised by the odds of
the dice that were smitten,  
no price, polarised, unforgiven  
by the time these rhymes are  

Our pride was beridden.  
Mandatory succes.  
Unless it meant covering up the  
deaths of my brothers I guess.  
I yearn to feel less.  
From my pinky to my thumb  
i’ve felt numb just like the souls  
who were dumb enough to encourage  
this and succumbed to nourish bliss  
and still feel proud.  
My heroes failed to put their foot down  
like the football on the ground in front  
of them when they look down in shame  
as the rain mixes with their tears as they  
present their countries to the crowd.  
Cheering just as hard as the screams of  
our families’ pain out loud.  
The classes are so far apart, they’ll never  
understand why I wonder how the grass is  
still green after all the bloodshed and the  
offset pounding of our hearts.
Written by Drieks
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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