'If you don't like it, then leave.'
- A revised philosophy.
A far cry from the missionaries,
Atop the skulls of bison.
Power starved insanity,
Boasting 'civilised society'.
Inbred ill-fated pedigree,
Abhorring its own ancestry.
Your heritage,
your heresy,
A 'thoroughbred',
Blood-stained deep red.
History's trained eyes don't see
Hypocrisy, diluted through the family tree.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem