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And strangles my neck
He cheats and abstracts justice
He hides and waylays when its dark
My feelings have become
The feelings of a prisoner Like a bird in a cage
whose wings Are useless to flee
whose wings could have flown to freedom
I feel like a half eaten bone
Thrown to the wild dogs
My tears run like an overflowing river
In vain because it’s too late
To save my dignity in the hands of those
Who tear my clothes apart.
LE PORTRAIT MAGAZINE
Page 63