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Verse No. 11
I write my verses in my books,
But care needs to be had—
For each and every tear I shed,
The wet ink stains my hand.
I cried until the paper tore
Apart—until the tears
Had waterlogged the page entire—
I sat, and shook with fear.
My people die! My people die—
And so I hang my head.
If I can't fight until we're free,
I'll fight until we're dead.
© Emilia Perseo Samuel Gaspar
#verse #lyric
But care needs to be had—
For each and every tear I shed,
The wet ink stains my hand.
I cried until the paper tore
Apart—until the tears
Had waterlogged the page entire—
I sat, and shook with fear.
My people die! My people die—
And so I hang my head.
If I can't fight until we're free,
I'll fight until we're dead.
© Emilia Perseo Samuel Gaspar
#verse #lyric
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