Thy Freedom Come Poem by Tosin Abegunde

Africa has this long dead bled
From her self-induced torture
Which had reduced her to nothing
And it's transited into this future
Tailored by her sons of belial
Who'd come as angels of light to
Tie her down with her own veins;
Strip'ed her naked in public square
Forced her dance amidst mockery
And spectators of hen, like a man
Who adorns his waist with corn.

Thy freedom come tomorrow
And these claws that choke you
Shall, before you, stumble and fall.
Though we may not be there:
Spirit, body and soul see it come
I'll definately grace your day, yes!
This, will give life to me for gaiety.