You executed your death sentence
When you sold your souls
Into the ballot boxes
In lieu of crispy mints and bags of rice
Of numbered cooking.
Mountains of dustbins greet
You as your doors creak open
Yet their private jets fly above
Your caving roofs
Which have become a thriving runway
For lizards and modelling snakes
Their tongues were too sweet
To be ignored.
Even when your ancestors
Warned you to be wary
Of those whose bellies
Evidenced chunks of unaccounted
Funds of last budgets.
But you filled your ears
With wax and blindfolded
Your eyes with thoughts of rice
To be shared at the polling stations.
Now this is the long-term price.
You pay for your short term enjoyment.
Yawning gullies decorate your roads
Death traps for your hustling sons.
And our national oil
Enough to lubricate every friction
In our communities and homes
Is hoarded and sold to us
At flamboyant prices.
We signed our death sentence
When we stood upon the graves
Of our heroes past
And made same mistakes
That brought them down.
@harrywill