The Crim's Poet Contest

There is a crime upon this land,
Given by the Government’s hand.
Those of us a card we do not hold,
Though we fought and died brave and bold.

They take our eagle feathers from us,
In our ceremonies they are a must.
Because the government didn’t delegate,
They say we are not Indian we must wait.

Our voices has been silent far to long,
So help us to correct this wrong.
In the past we said nothing to our sorrow,
So let our voices ring on the morrow.
By: DobermanKing(Albania)