Well, where do I begin?
Should I address the muslim people, the neglect we've given our own brothers and sisters?
Or do I address the United Nations, who aimed for peace and righteousness,
Yet you turn a blind eye to this?
The Uyghur people are enslaved,
Bounded in chains, their culture is slain,
Your ideology is lame if you won't say their name,
For they are the Uyghur, and they are in pain.
You claim to be kind,
Yet you seem to be blind,
You've left our siblings to fight,
A war in which they are dying.
My siblings are the Uyghurs.
Brave and strong hearted people.
Their eyes hold forges and their culture tells of great heroes,
But what stories will these people tell their children if their culture is erased?
But what stories will these people tell their children, if their children are slain?
Whipped, killed and enslaved,
Enstrangled from their mothers, beaten by their capturors;
What stories will these people tell their children if they are slain?
These people are the Uyghur, from East Turkestan.
No, their name is not, and will never be the Xinjiang.
If you have a heart put down your phone,
For in time, you will be joining the revolt.
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I'm actually working on a novel series, so I haven't been posting much.
