My Pen Spills Blood Poem by JESUROBOOWIE GIFT IMAFIDON

An outburst of frustration I tried to curtail
From the destruction and calamity I see in the land
I wonder what to do, until my pen came to my aid
And alive as my weapon of warfare
For the cry of the dying children
Who have been deprived, off to the maker too early
Screams of the many that died
on the blood sucking traps muddy hollows called roads
Resound and echo down my spine, are you so deaf not to hear?

For the dashed hope of the girl child
Who has been abused and dehumanized
For every helpless child by your wicked acts you made orphans
Whose parents you have sent to early grave
For the many who have been persecuted
For demanding for justice from you
For the many that go hungry in the presence of plenty
On behalf of the oppressed, depressed and the suppressed
My pen spills blood, yes your blood

Oh You vagabonds, you have squandered our sovereign wealth
On you and yours alone
Now you are at war with your people
Who will come to your rescue?
Sleep no more, for the people cry for justice
Sleep no more for your consciences have been cursed
Your unyielding appetite has been your doom
so repent and pay retribution
Else start praying the earth to open wide
And swallow your glutton being
And on behalf of the people my pen will continue to spill your blood
Until sanity returns to our land