Poetry Corner: Thanksgiving

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The Pilgrims were extended a kind hand and fed by the occupants of this nameless land,

the morning after you could say they took their walk of “shame” mass murder and rape an inconceivable pain.

I can’t celebrate this horrible fate of the natives we walk, run, and live upon a snake riden bloodstained nation.

The hunting and farm raising of a bird enslavement and slaughter that would mean I couldn’t die a martyr.

How could this massacre be forgiven & a holiday was arisen?

I’m Thankful for giving you truth!

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