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Cornucopias
Never had a knee on my neck.
Guess I can still sing.
Never had someone to protect.
Guess I’ll do my thing.
Never scared to wear a hoodie.
Guess I’ll wear something
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Cornucopias
of torn utopias
/
Cornucopias
of scorn too copious.
Excellent wordplay and also bitterly true.
The final stanza is fantastic, and the one part that can't be expressed via audo (the emaciated inside the emancipated) is especially good. Even those 'freed' so long ago are still struggling, and too many are still starving for the lack of both plenty and liberty.
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