The most dangerous game

The House invited us to the most dangerous game;
and its fruit looked so sweet;
you did not know that it grew from blood.
In the middle of the Atlantic lies my Family.
Six feet under the plains lie my Family.
Refusing participation.
I do not want this fruit either.

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Key Words : blm, capitalism, history

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    This Poems Story

    Everyday since the beginning of capitalism my brothers and sister are stolen, abused, sold, and more for money.