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


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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