Juba you are ******-red!
Like noon-back of the red sea,
As if Tinka and Nuer we know,
Is complexion-ly red?
But no, they are all dark,
Under weight of melanin,
Only that your guns yell deaths,
And fluvial rivulets of blood,
Afloat are fear-ridden refugees,
From a slaughter of your nation
To which you **** not,
As if you have a spare-part,
No, guns in Juba must down be
For us to talk and talk
By not listening to the echoes
Of our clans, tribes and races,
Only for our ears to ***** high
In dear audience to the agony,
In the voices of the widows,
Orphans and the starved ones
That had their trust and love
Once endowed into you
The state of Sudan in Juba,