Kukongji-Terr

The city of Kukongji-Terr,
In which the wealthy find their peace,
Many others move in there,
A little town to find relief.

A little settlement it is,
Upon the bank of Kukongji-Rij
The route but passes by her lands,
Until she chose its route entry.

The wealthy become richer still,
As she tolls the passers-by,
Live upon seclusion's hill,
And they will leave you should you die.

She drinks her fill on soiled lands,
And makes her people sicker still,
But laid firmly in fascist hands,
Her cemetery starts to fill.

The city of Kukongji-Terr,
Upon the bank of Kukongji-Rij,
What should make your planners err
That so many dead, in you should be?

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