Not a matter of the color
But a matter of the Mind.
Diseased, it seeds
many small rinds.
...
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thats some sad poem abt slavery whoo when i saw the title i knew that it wa going to be awesoem and i was right nice poem really nice
In its unwashed mouth. Crushed underfoot by the Societal Abomination, made and kept in order from thousands of others. it is inhuman even to thinkl of slavery in thoughts. God has created us to be in free and here we keep then in bondage..... i hate the concept....10 read mine.... you and me.... lovely valentine... o, wind