You got it finally fix’d
You I mean, not you
In your comfort couch
In DC, Paris and London.

Not you glued to your TV like a vegetable
Thinking this Crossing-the-Mediterranean
Barrier-to-Entry BS is a made believe
“Nobody can be that foolish on a makeshift boat.”

You I mean, you, good sir, you
Seated on a swingin’ chair, well-educated
Who holds the trust and will
Of electorates of the civilized world.

The zeal of your power knows no bounds
It wears the presumption of ‘knowing best’.
Now Libya is FREE but I’m a Refugee
impoverish’d by your new found freedom

Yes, you. You killed Gaddafi;
is it for the oil or for the Peace?
You empowered Freedom fighters
with weapons they couldn’t help but use
Now Benghazi is drunk on FREEDOM – ruined.

Congo, Sierra Leone are yours
and now Libya, where all the diamonds,
copper and oil gush.
It’s OK.

Don’t feel an ounce of guilt when I arrive
in a body bag with my unborn child wash’d up at your shore.
Don’t berate your citizens who deem me a burden,
To treat me as human, tomorrow is ON. Have a ball. Libya is FREE.

Copyright © 2019. Spilledwoords. All rights reserved.

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