Our Brothers And Sisters Are Terrorists...

I want you to wear my torn shoes, And walk on the thorny mountains, We are poor and nothing is ours, Packed with anger to subdue your manners, When we want to rehabilitate you all, You all preach that we have to be corrected, We are deficient, disoriented and armed, Thank you for your generosity on our lands, We have gathered when you celebrated, We were in tears when you laughed aloud, We are your brothers which you have forgotten, Poor are not fit to be friends with anyone, Good or bad: everyone is confused, Profit or deficit: every packet is vulnerable, Justice or injustice: sometimes injustice to justice, Biased or neutral: all of us have our own rules.