The Unnamed Lands Lament

In a land unnamed, where directions guide, And compass points where hidden sorrows hide, Our youth, a current, struggles to flow free, Drowning in drink, a bitter, endless sea. The many kneel, with outstretched, empty hand, Before the few who rule this weary land. Opportunities, a mirage in the haze, While leaders feast in opulent, rich days. Our scholars toil, with books and hopeful gaze, To join their elders in life's struggling maze. No shield to guard, no haven to embrace, Just open wounds in time and fractured space. To wear this skin, a burden, still untold, A story whispered, centuries old. Though freedom rings, its echo softly fades, Where racism thrives in lingering, dark shades. Yet in this unnamed place, a spirit gleams, A silent fire, fueling waking dreams. For even here, where shadows hold their sway, The dawn will break, and bring a brighter day.