With bloodshot eyes,
Exhausted from relentless struggles,
Tired of fighting each other
Covered in rags
As they sit around the fire at night
With hope he will show up one day.
But from where,
When we've heard nothing about him,
Even my forefathers don't know him,
Or maybe it is something else,
You might have had us on your own
What a beautiful lie it would.
Have mercy on your suffering kids
Introduce them to their fathers,
Not that you have failed
But change is sometimes good.
We acknowledge your efforts,
Raising us a single mother,
It's time now
Father has to man up
And take his responsibility.
I ask this question today,
Not for my own sake
But on behalf of the rest;
Dear Mama Africa
Where is Papa?
@troypoetics