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You rip our earth of our bread and our water, our gold, our independence, and when we seek in your lands what you have taken from ours, you shame us, tell us to return to our place. call us thieves and deceivers. When we seek reparations, you say how crazy we are to cling to bygones. When we seek progress, you call the hands that rebuilt the ruins iconoclasts. You brought forth a drought in my land- one of spirit and heritage. You carved the earth around me for extractio

our ancestors did not get pillaged, raped, and mutilated so you could suck on the teat of the oppressor. from the ink you call uncivilised, that our ancestral bhikkus claimed, to the queers we once worshipped that disgusts their progeny today. no less than a century ago, our forefathers fought to escape their captive minds- to detach our cultures, our rivers, our mountains from the moha, the delusion, that one must care about the opinions of our wardens from the west. yet eve