Like a fresh wound from a sword
What our future holds.
Day by day, our quota being tarnished
Eaten up by some wrong leaders
Building up wealth like no death
Death takes without wealth or date.
While some dance to the tune
Played by our dear poverty
Youth start playing games
Games march with corruption.
Some innocents hold responsible
By our world leaders
While also our world leaders
Dine with friendly corruption
Dressed in mind with an injustice attire.
An oppression shoe to march
A nemesis will soon meet up with them
Destroying them with vengeance
Without query.
Unless ways change like
The winds of change.
« return.