Echoes Of Siberia Poem by Wesley Mincin
Echoes Of Siberia
Echoes of Siberia
All we did was voice our thoughts.
Now we're sentenced here to rot.
In the cold, we work or die.
No one hears our desperate cries.
Starving, beaten, freezing, weeping,
called a traitor by our nation.
Siberia, my destination.
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4/18/2024 10:58:14 PM # 1.0.0.1119
