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| As the army cracks down on peaceful protesters after the coup, the violence that is commonplace in the countryside serves as a grisly reminder of the military legacy of atrocities. — New York Times Courtesy: @nytimes (Twitter) |
We're strangers in a familiar place
Confined to our homes in a solid cage.
The things that ought
To work for our salvation,
Wakes a trail of desolation.
In my homeland
Blood runs thicker than sand,
Freedom put a stake thru our hearts:
Freedom to express who we are,
Freedom to choose our own path,
Freedom to demonstrate
And not get shot at;
Freedom to have our say
On who runs the affairs of state.
It's hard to get past
The image in your mind,
'Specially when you got stabbed
By your own tool, from behind.
They threw our leaders in jail
Our women keep getting raped.
It's the only way, or they're dead…
With gunshot wounds to the head.
Soldiers patrolling every street,
So now it's kill season
And dead bodies keep increasing
Yet nobody's out to give one reason,
Asking question's perceived treason.
But we still bleeding
And the junta ain't ceding
Yet the whole world ain't heeding
So, who are we kidding?
Akpan
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