They played the part yet plot the pact. Instead of repair, they lead in the shadow to rip the earth; Our gods are not to blame but them. They have betrayed our ancestors, Posterity can wait no longer. Arriving from yonder, they have come to judge our every move, To the letter in every decision backing our move. Dear Mother, my honour is stained and tattered! To where has my father departed? It seems our collective dream has shattered, The pieces pierced our feet and bruised our skin. My siblings' wail but the elders make merry. Our village is lurking around wealth, But our daily bread is locked up in the vault. We dread treading the path to revolt, And gathering momentum outgrow our ill-health. This is not the future we dreamed of. Our dreams, precious like the mineral that has taken our place now. The elders paraded the corners of my street with pseudo promises. We’d believed for a moment but our springs quickly dried up, And they silently masterminded the raid to rip our homes...
#BeingTheVictor journey!