FAMINE FARMERS
They are the land,
They are landless.
They give you gold(en)grains,
They are grainless.
Gifts of pain sealed in fate.
Aromatic sand suffocates solemn selves.
Suicides and debts are the birth rights.
Tear gas served to swerve the nerves.
Sons of soil swell in pride.
They serve the platter with grains & wise.
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