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Not Understood

I do not understand
Your thoughts buried in the sand
Or why, for those you call your own, you do not stand.
Or why you feel worth is only to be seen in the hand.
And I understand least
Why people upon the flesh of others feast.
Even when the pain is seen in their faces creased.
The torturers persisted and the suffering never ceased.
However, I do understand, though with resisting pain,
That many are smothered for the profit and gain
Of others who feel no guilt nor pain
For the bodies left smoldering upon the plain.

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