The Migrant by D.J Tyrer

The Migrant

All he wanted
Was the promise
Of streets paved with gold.
He neither knew nor cared
About politics
Had no comprehension
Of the issues his presence stirred
The fears, the rage.
He knew nothing
Of the terrorists’ actions
That provided the fig leaf
Of justification
For the vile-minded thugs
Who attacked him.
All he wanted
Was the promise
Of streets paved with gold.
All he got
Were streets painted red
With his blood.

DJ Tyrer Blogs at

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