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If we tell gently, gently
All that we shall one day have to tell
Who then will hear us without astonishment
Sonorous quetch voice of an anguish
Who indeed will hear this without amazement?

If we scream hardly of our hardship
the journey which began from our independent
what eyes will watch our wide opened mouths
molded by the smiles of our dead heroes
What eyes will watch us crying?

What heart will belief in our torment
what ear will listen to our clamouring
which live and dine in us like a tumour
In the deepest part of our plaintive heart?

We have a rusted iron in us
When our surface is electroplated with gold
We are a giant in the view of the world
But we're innately dwarf.

African see us as their leader
While they are moving forward
And we are following their shadow.

What ear will hear our pitiful anger
What hand will come to our rescue
Our heroes have left golden icons for us
On water, in the air and under the ground
What ear will listen to their clamorous voice
Screaming hard to correct our path.

This hardship is hunting for our life
We are tagged with what we don't worth
The world beliefs in us but we belief not in ourself
If we cry and scream gently
What ear will hear our clamour
What heart will pity our bleeding heart?

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    I'm a growing writer from southwestern part of Nigeria. A born poet and a poetry enthusiast.

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