are angry. they are out on
the streets,
hands raised
to the sky,
voices chanting.
what do they want now?
what is that
they are displeased with.
they are holding
up their babies,
with tears in their eyes.
they are wearing
sack cloth
and ashes.
they wail and march.
they circle
the city streets.
from dusk
to sunrise.
they have nowhere else
to be,
no life,
no jobs.
they are displeased.
permanently,
it seems.
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