We are the animals of the
We used to roam the wilderness
In our prides or packs
But now we hide in the darkest corners
Hiding from the end of our lives,
Hearing the gunshots
And the rattling of the cars
As they drive past,
Watching other animals end their life
In a single gunshot ...
Think about it; we can do something.
by Rachel Skinner
Read the story behind this poem
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