Their Kind Poem by Joseph Sakyiamah
Their Kind
Sweet as of words, they come
As of swords they pierce,
To our puberty,
They scream at night,
Just to wet our birds,
They took our rights,
Silencing our voices,
In darkness, they hid our shadows,
Without liberty to fly
No equity to smile,
They sing us rain of stones,
Leaving behind us pains,
With our barefoot in darkness,
They still asked us to walk,
Just to see us fall.
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8/28/2026 10:48:16 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
