Forty-one years, departed;
Unconsciously thought,
We’re off the slavery era,
The abandoned promises,
Remain silent, unabashed;
Lifeless stones constantly laid,
If alive, would have spitted;
Fresh blood, new commitments;
Contemplated I, rays of hope;
Worse than old guards,
Stalking like wild wolves,
Bitterly hated but survive,
Yet, we un-movingly talk;
The cash cast, politically;
Intelligently, we’ve right off;
Democracy compromised!
I wander around and weary,
I’ll wrap up my poem,
Lest it rains, awful omen befalls;
God save our land.
Sonny L Khyriem
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