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A storm’s coming

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Bullet ridden bodies unceremoniously thrown on to the streets and into the waters. Secrets buried?
A mosque just inside of a sea hugging road is set ablaze.
Young men howling in pain, unable to bear the fresh wounds.  Scarred and penniless, the youth roam the streets. What do they dream of – a better life or revenge?
Children sold. Infants murdered by those who bore them before they even see the light of this cruel world. Lucky bastards, are they? Some call them that. Scary thought.
Theft. The innocent robbed not just of money and jewellery, but also of love, of famliy, of friends, of peace, of justice, of freedom…. the list goes on.

We breathe polluted air.

I hear a storm coming. I feel it. I see it. It’s not far. It’s not pretty. It’s ugly. It’s dark.

The future’s screaming.

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2 Comments

  1. Chavie says:

    need.umbrella.fast! 😦

  2. The Womanist says:

    hahahhahahhahahaha 😛

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