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KEYENNA: THE HOLLOWED BELLY
What becomes of my hollowed belly?
What can we, the impoverished do?
I am wringing in pain with the need to feed.
My desire for miniatures
Has since been long gone.
Outstretched hands I will,
Till the earth I have,
What becomes of my hollowed belly?
These lines are for the impoverished
Our beat is for survival.
“Live and let us live” we wail.
Trot through your path
But don't step on our tails,
We are the voice written in pain.
© All Rights Reserved
What can we, the impoverished do?
I am wringing in pain with the need to feed.
My desire for miniatures
Has since been long gone.
Outstretched hands I will,
Till the earth I have,
What becomes of my hollowed belly?
These lines are for the impoverished
Our beat is for survival.
“Live and let us live” we wail.
Trot through your path
But don't step on our tails,
We are the voice written in pain.
© All Rights Reserved
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