Our father flattered culture,
they laced life with every bit of it;
they veiled our skin, blackened our eyes
and handed our heart in its hand.

They concocted faith with custom,
fed it to our slender mentality;
they sharpened their words with cliche
and sliced our future into fries.

They said the sun scavenge souls,
with the sharp-toothed ray it sway;
they said the moon mint mind,
with dews of thought it drops at dusk.

They said the blue in the sky,
symbolise a world of biles;
they said the smoke trekking on it,
will curb it from hurting our psyche.

So they cooped us in a shed
and fed us with their sweat;
now that their aids is scarce,
shouldn't we all disperse --

to either make a change
or find a way to live.

Josh Wealth Pampam ©
25/10/20 14:14 GMT