That Place

Where i am from is like the red sea,
this minute it parts to allow peace to cross.

The next minute its raining bullets,
as if a hail storm has just passed.

The sounds of the guns are like dogs barking, though you wouldn’t want to feel what they packing.

Then without a doubt bodies fall like leaves in the autumn breeze.

The so called brave ones die and the innocent cry,
while others go about turning a blind eye.

People on the outside fear what they don’t understand.
How do you think we feel,
when we are the ones living here?

~ Xavier Frazer ©

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