When
we’re born the universe so happyBut look
at in Palestine
There’s
no happiness along with cry of babies
Who do
not ever be born in Gaza
The teardrop…
Following
scratch in old face
Between
booming noises and guns
It compelled
them come of age
Then to
die off before be acquinted with world
Is there
any love?
Why we
let it war take the cries born of them
Die off
behind fume along with their mother
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