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Who Are The Real Illegals?
The land is stained with blood, forever scarred,
By Europeans who claimed it as their own,
They slaughtered those who called it home, unbarred,
And now they claim, "Go back to lands unknown."
But who are they to speak of leaving, when
They themselves are the ones who didn't belong?
Illegals, all, who killed the rightful men,
And stole their land with acts both cruel and wrong.
Their hands are red with blood that cannot fade,
The ghosts of ancestors still haunt the ground,
And yet they dare to speak of their charade,
Their arrogance and ignorance unbound.
Oh, how their words of leaving ring so false,
When they're the ones who shouldn't be here at all.
© Adriel Montejano
By Europeans who claimed it as their own,
They slaughtered those who called it home, unbarred,
And now they claim, "Go back to lands unknown."
But who are they to speak of leaving, when
They themselves are the ones who didn't belong?
Illegals, all, who killed the rightful men,
And stole their land with acts both cruel and wrong.
Their hands are red with blood that cannot fade,
The ghosts of ancestors still haunt the ground,
And yet they dare to speak of their charade,
Their arrogance and ignorance unbound.
Oh, how their words of leaving ring so false,
When they're the ones who shouldn't be here at all.
© Adriel Montejano
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