Thoughts of a Grieved African

Mighty minds of the West and the progressive hearts of the orients, we ask to be heard.
We are left with nothing, our everything is lost, we are bare with pale faces.
Oh Mr. Uniter come to our aid.
Disease and dread has maimed us to shredded. The devoured carcass of An African Antelope is far much better looking than the faces of our children.
The ones we call fathers are grief sickened and pain struck and mournfully sad.
Education is not a dream.
Our sons have no hope, no thoughts of redemption, my little eagles.
The pride of our daughters are now the game for the human animals.
I have not lost my dignity, oh no, I have not and I can not.
I plead on the tears of my crying wife, my destitute Son and Pride lost Daughter, come to our aid.
Either white or black, we seek no preference, deliver us.
I have brothers and I have sisters but we do not matter.
We ask for the opportunity to be educated and to have a freedom to livelihood.
Heavy heart and anger rules the minds of our fathers. Our forefathers were much better because they had freedom.
We do not ask for the cosiness of the streets of The English Man nor the Security of The Whitehouse rather, we ask to be called brothers and sisters.
Our legs with which we would walk to Freedom has be taken by Polio,
The hands we would use to shake the hands of our investors has been made unclean by Ebola,
Our will to explore the forests for food has been cut short by Mosquitoes,
Our innovative minds for thinking has been concealed to Sadness.
I would only say this; The fate of success lies with fair play 🎭.


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