Give nation a pen,

Let the people infuse it’s only vein 

With muted wailings 

And excruciating realities,

Allow them to artery thier distress a

And disgrace through it’s ink. 

Let it tell the story of a demeaned manhood of a young man

Sinking and shrinking into drugs

Gravitated into corners of the street

Waiting for sunset to envelope his disgrace. 

Let the pen connect with a single Woman

And let it’s ink bleed 

The recording of her enervated strength.

Let it tell her story,

As she sits all day long,

Plotting the next empty promise,

To her little souls, 

With only but empty tummies,

As she glances around,

With only but empty spirit. 

Let the ink be a masterpiece

Of a little girl’s soul,

As she shrinks into fear,

Glancing around involuntarily

Waiting for the next dissembling

Of her little innocent puzzle of heart. 

Let the pen bleed out through it’s only vein,

Her unspoken fears and pains. 

Let it write a story of a young man 

Who wakes up daily to witness

Only but the snippets of his dreams 

Drifting away from the palm of his hands. 

Give the nation a pen 

And let it bleed through the ink, 

The bitter, twisted realities

Of a little girl with a hilly tummy

Let her write how the empty promises

Shattered her and 

Swift her dreams from her hands. 

Give old women and let them write to us,

How youth is supposed to live and survive,

When all their sight covers 

Is only but the billowing smoke

Of the hope burnt.

May they write to us 

where the next generation

Is supposed to land,

When all that is, 

Is a dismantled structure of land,

Where lies, deceits and injustices

Are brewn in the leadership chambers. 

Give the nation a pen, 

But also recall to unlock

The verses infused by 

shades of black realities,

Frozen in their veins 

And let their arteries connect with the pen

And vomit the unsaid and untold stories.