There we live sleeping on compiled worries
at night with our flesh peeling on wild floor.
The costly rags we wear tells sad stories
on the wretched tales stuck behind our naked door.

There,our dying souls shrink in hopelessness,
for we have nothing but roof which is the bridge.
Best lagacy exposely caged in our helplessness,
maybe alms would one day free her from the bondage.

For breakfast,our bare feet must sweep the Earth,
With neasous basins in our hands to bin
where remnants remains our hope right from birth,
As penury vows being our new next of kin.

For survival we eat our wards’ morrow.
For meat we slug it out for dog’s best meal,
Where fathers pass away leaving nothing but sorrow
behind,as mothers of five now nurse just one for real!

The whiff oozing grief from our wet handpits,
Is like one from where we do get our breakfast
As our babies under the blind sun stand fit,
Crying over the sick milk on our bereaved fleshy mast.

Our breathing skins are dying enjoying suffering,
As flies celebrate the fate we carry
With lices that lies in our hairs,crawling,
Breeding plight on our ragged skulls as pally.

What,who shall wipe our itching inner tears
with the scars whose healing hour is unknown?
Do we continue chasing flashy mean cars
only waving to our tumbling sprints with faint horn?

Now that the breeze has exposed our shy shelter
And sons die slowly on the stance of no medication,
Rapists lick our daughters’ thighs as we drink hunger,
For possibility of living keeps hanging on fridays’ portion!

How I wish you could see what today wrote on our tainted faces,
With impoverished ink from faint clearer vision,
Despite the blur morrow we wear on hope like lace,
Will death still claim to be the agent of correction?

But forget not that the tears filling these innocent bowls,
Shall slip your blood and body into hell,
There,our plight shall be one cent of thy growls,
And raised to the power of lives you made to yell!

Which way forward?

©MesioyePen
Happy Democracy