
What are we doing to our own,
people?
Sins built upon sins
multiply;
humanity lives suffering
the lie,
that some are unworthy
to live,
and thus, only worthy
to die.
What have we done to our own,
nations?
Injustice rules certain classes
among us,
all the rejected and broken
spirits;
each hateful moment, someone
will die,
yet nations continue believing
the lie.


I appreciate your stopping in to read my poem today. 
Oh, yes and thank you too, for prodding my memory on the name of that poem by Henry, "Faces of the Street" There is one more poem he wrote that I was looking for (but I cannot remember the name of that one, either) when I ran across the "Faces of the Street" poem. He is just awesome! I wish I could remember which one that was, it is the best one and stuck with me for hours... but I cannot remember now what the heck it was about... in my old age, my memory is beginning to escape me. Anyway, thanks again, I always apprecaite your stopping on to read my work!!!

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