01/10/2022
62!
62 doesn't suit you.
For as a child you still behave, setting greediness mixed with foolishness as a food in front you. You play with the lives of the masses as a child playing with sand
62 doesn't sit well with you.
For as a grown up man, you should be full of wisdom, that we drink from.
But look, the land has gone pale. Our store house is dried up, even the grasses are not green.
How do I tell my friends that papa just hit 62?
When I have gray hairs on my head with sweats on my shoulders and wrinkles on my forehead?
My palms are peeled from toiling yet I have a father who is wealthy.
62 years of independence doesn't look good on you,
For Autocracy ripped apart your sacred promise of democracy,
You turned us into slaves in our own dear land
The sounds of your gun,
Have hid our voices and kept our mouths shut.
For the brave amongst us thread a dreaded part of courage and shatters of blood .
You have silenced us in the rage of your guts,
We feign unity, harmony and peace, when in our veins fury burn
You are selfish, you have been blinded and on this day we parade the streets cheering your new age.
With tied stomachs and weak bones, we have screamed for our voice to be heard!
We wake up at night to see if the sun is shining, days and nights make no difference.
We have turned strangers in our land.
Papa is 62
What would become of us now.