Stricken by disease and misery. In a time when no one was equal. Millions of people died eslaved by tyrants. A time when nothing was criticized And everything was punished. But we all have rights. No little slave.
No way out : Starvation and cold. Your survive, Your faith. Perverse factory. One of your brothers fall. Dragged like an insect in a pauper's grave. All that, to win a piece.
Now, they realized they had to fight and protest. They raised, courageous and strong. Faced to an army, ready to kill to impose their supremacy. The workers, tired and weak.. In their eyes a better vision of future. But the dream was off, carried away by a wave of killings.. Blood flowed on the pavement.
We could see . In the eyes of a dead, a bayonetstuck in his entrails . A epithaph in the memory of the fight for hope of a better life..despite the suffering. The cries of revolt will never, be stifled by death. Bad choice. Such acts, it is not justified. But they are organized. Without them, the world will be crash. The money, zero. And it is no longer the wretched.. Crushed under the boots of a leader.