When freedom isn’t really free.
When some live so that others eat ’em,
It sounds more like a killing spree.
It is as if all our communities,
Demanding equal opportunities,
Are calling out to scratch an itch:
An equal chance to strike it rich.
But in a land where exploitation
Decides who’s rich and who is poor
We’ll never really find a cure,
Until we shoot for its negation.
Till then who’s rich will make the rules;
The rest will, equally, be mules.
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