After defecating
no tissue to wipe
our buttocks
no dry leaves to clean
our hands
no water to wash our
body
the government promised
the tissue

But their promise is christ
second coming
thousand years elapse
no sign of fullfilment
flies feast on our feaces
gurnor chased away

The air is Carbon (iv) Oxide
feaces taint it
when is the true Messaiah
coming?
Perhaps! God is the answer
the mother hen will protect
her children against the hawk

At dawn
the dogs swallowed
our feaces,leaked our hands
The answer is God