Now that I lie here in my simple grave outside Sidi Bouzid-surrounded by olive trees and blossoming almond trees, I want you to know how much I longed for you. Slapped in the face and forced to the ground, just to keep my family sound. Fined without reason, as if I were committing acts of treason. Everyday i'd walk to my cart, five kilometers to the local mart, in hopes of living my dream-even though my clothes were ripping from their seams. Everyday I dreamt of change, but all I knew of change, was of the small amount I kept in my pocket caged.It was all so strange. What an unfair exchange, and so I set myself in flames. To burn away my rage and humiliation, to feel your powers in my nation.
Oh freedom, call me Mohamed Bouazizi and remember me.
From the Soils of Tunisia
Oh freedom, call me Mohamed Bouazizi and remember me.
From the Soils of Tunisia
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