This poem is called GLOSS

I returned home , the place of my birth 

The soldiers left, but blood was soaked into the earth 



Every corner was a face of despair

Once proud people, belonging nowhere 



Displaced is the title they’re given 

Men, boys, girls and women 



I can’t cry, how can I help?

A question I ask myself 



The government hasn’t stepped up, how can Britain be expected to

Dear God, what can I do



I’ve been back a couple of months, I’m still confused 

Following Genocide, can they survive anymore abuse



Neglected, by soo many, the pain so real 

I want more people to care, and know how they feel 



I’ve called this poem GLOSS

Genocide, Leaves Openly Scared Souls



Because politicians gloss over the reality, gloss over the facts 

That humans are living in tents bitten by rats



That hunger and death is an everyday occurrence 

With talks , and screams are referred as a disturbance 



We don’t want to seem ungrateful of the Pretoria agreement 

Respectfully I am grateful of the achievement 

But not enough to be silenced , in the name of appeasement