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"Stolen Walls" A Poem By Susrite

I created thee with labour
Foundated thee on the best of earth
Made thee giants amidst thy neighbour
And provided thee natural means to wealth

I strengthen thy Arrows and bows
When the mighty subdued thy lands
I made thy old brave and thy youth bold
And freedom played out like sounds

Thou art graced with the mantle
To push thy kin to comfort
Like the rearer to his cattle
Whom should make joy come forth

But what have thou done?! Oh what?
Treating thy seeds to tears
The hand which I found few fault
Giving it so much cross to bear

Doom! Doom!! Doom!!!
All thou hast lead to reach
At every breath I see sorrow loom
Even when my sons preached

Thou art milking my people dry
And their agonies, walking to the sky
Thou push them down, whom I took high
And neighbour mocked thy giant... Oh why?

For it is written and thou knoweth
"The people turned when pushed to the wall"
Thou, then, stole the wall and runneth
And push thy people, they cry and fall

"They shall adapt" this; thy comment
Thou ignored their wails and filled thy pocket
I shall kill thee, leave thee to ferment
For thou suffers thy kin, the innocents.


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