We are the undeserving, the invisible
A weight on a long-suffering society
We have no jobs, no money
Surely our fault, to not obtain
What cannot be found
We are too infirm
And have the gall not to recover
From incurable disease
And missing limbs
We have no homes
And what sort of person chooses
The street, losing their dwelling
To careless penury
We are displaced
And how dare we flee death
To choose life in another land
When we should stay home
And die quietly
Why won’t we change the colour
Of our skin, the shape of our eyes
What we eat is wrong
How we speak and dress
Who we worship
Who we love
Unacceptable
Punish us as we deserve
Like it or not, we are you,
The flip side of your smug complacency
Who is wrong now?
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