In Deep End; I Depend Poem by Thomas Henk

They all put on green attires to celebrate her.
Every once in a year they mark her birthday.
And if nothing is done to elevate her,
Maybe one of this days would be a 'Mayday'.
Her eyes bathing in tears her face is turning pale.
And she's counted many years of being fed with stale.
And all those that seek her hand don't use the front door.
they're all fake; so tell me what is all this for?
It's been 55years of working hard for nothing.
365 days of switching positions and rankings.
And this was a land that people cried for;
Still the same land that great people died for.
Am all am trying to say in the essence;
Is, we really have not yet kissed our independence.
We are still slaves in the hands of our leaders.
Dear Lord save us from the grasp of these killers.