Our children will hang themselves
From thirty story rises.
They will fall
Moored on the homes
That we have built for them.
They will drown.
Hollowed out and gaunt with hope
They are now vacant cages
Always in transit,
The longing they felt had never been
that nagging desire for an unknown
Their empty pasts have been cleared of all residue.
Dressed up in monied shell,
For treasures that have been replaced
By things that mean nothing.
your future will be bright.
Inspired by a sense of remorseful pain
everybody who used to live here is busy searching
For who is to blame
Doubt no further.
All that has been done, has been done
In your name.
Post image by Senorhorst Jahnsen via Flickr
About the Author:
Eniola Anuoluwapo Soyemi, I am a Nigerian Ph.D. student in political philosophy at Boston University. I run the Political Matter blog. I have always written for myself and sometimes I write for others.