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Her wounds are severely bleeding,
out of agony she is crying at day and night,
Da Gama was the hope back-then,
but Loh!!!, he made more holes,
now she is hopelessly dying alone.
Despite many children now she is alone,
weeping on her deathbed with no one to console her,
all of her children are drunk from selfishness,
battling one another aiming at the cup of authority,
her affliction keeps on being elevated,
since tides of partition are drowning her children.
Ancestor’s curse might be tailing her home,
or may be she lives in the haunted house,
beyond imagination are the things on her,
like how mysteriously her wise children vaporize,
with no trace behind they’re all perishing.
Unless you want to join them don’t dare to be wise,
raise not your voice and your head always bow.
For wise ones this game of throne is hard to play,
needs not your wisdom but energy when playing,
sour taste befall mostly on little ones,
the chest of their mama is flat,
no even single milk drop to easy their grief.
Slavery chain ties her limbs strongly,
arrows of racism are piercing her kind heart,
from ignorance gas she is suffocating,
by rays of arrogance her vision is blurred,
to unstake her life abruptly treatment is needed,
unfortunately no surgeon is ready to operate her.
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