The Oppressor I Know Poem by OLADEJI POPOOLA

I tried to write but my ink agglutinates
I tried to speak but it seems my
voice has been betrayed by the wave.
I forced my hands, my legs but
gesticulation betrayed me more than
the wave.

The stone landed on my skull,
the one the oppressor threw to
the market. But my voice was
not heard when I screamed out
with pain, instead, he merry of
accomplishment.

I let down tears to narrate my
grievances but no matter how I
tried to bring out the pitiable
water, it is being appreciated with smile.

Oppressor kills,
They don't care you sight the dawn with
sadness and give up the last breath with
distress before the dusk.
They are human that lack humane.