And I know where my happiness
lies;
My salvation unfolds before
my eyes.
I anticipate feverishly, the morning
of evil's demise
Thus my pen shall never run
dry until it is realized,
Until I obtain true
justification for this sacrifice.
Devastated and cornered
though they may be,
Our outcome is tied to their outcome
by destiny’s strings.
Our survival is as slim as
the vapor of their dying breath.
If we forget them, who we are
perishes in their death.
Cause the tragedy is not to
die but to be wasted.
Daily, the fate of thousands
arrive upon a nightmare,
Spun out like the thread of a
graphic horror story.
Day and night their pastime
is a game called terror and fear.
Our organs rot and decay and
all we do is drag our feet;
They live on the edge of
death, blinded by tears.
“The
summer has passed
The
harvest has ended
But
we are not saved.”
Akpan