I woke up today
And did not get a chance to cry for myself
The news back home already was enough
Papers turning back into trees
A jungle with an ancient apex
A forest without air
I close my eyes and see the slain
Carcasses scattered across the plains
Vultures afraid to eat from the dead
The decay forming green bile
What is depression to me? A psychological horror show where i must rewatch incompetence over and over till my brain awaits any semblance of pain. When will I have time to allow myself to cry for the loved ones I lost or rejoice for the new borns I have. I feel the weight of a country on my shoulders. Is it by force? Yet I cannot look away from the constant purgatory state of a country called an African Giant.
I grew up, content and understanding of structural failure. My childhood years masked with the sweetness of innocence while quietly building a wall of trauma. As tall as the wall of Jericho.
Person matter plus another person matter full ground.
One day, bad road stop am
Another day, thief catch am
Tomorrow, na hospital kill am
Original suffer suffer
Na we suffer pass
Na Africans suffer pass
We gats suffer
Who send us?
Carry bible for head
Carry inferiority for head
Wetin my papa never see
What can I say again? I may be lying to myself, living far away from the madness that gave birth to me. Maybe i am holding onto past memories in current times, replayed to my current self to give me a sense of patriotism that i never had.
The african pain is felt in every living or dead African bones. Africans that had their purpose and dreams destroyed by cowardice held in high offices must hold the drying waters and keep going. The tears that refuse to fall to the ground, dropping into the our hearts, like lava consuming space.
Wetin man go do?
SIMPLE WORLD 