The shoe that we wear is killing,
Yet the race in our feet slows.
The benevolence which sprawls in the new morning extends to all.
With the morning sun striking as much the eyes of our dreams,
Every wake describes a victory.
When we are chased, we also chase our survival.
If we live, their joy is marred.
And mad are they when thirsty for red stream in our veins.
We run, but the bullet of their guns is faster:
Right in the stare of our God, they pluck us down to the grave.
If we dream, we do the hope that is lost,
If we think, we query the quest to live.
The sons and daughters from our labour wail in fear,
Asking: “what have we done wrong?”
I fear they live, also I trouble they might lose.
When humans kill others,
But spare the dogs…
If I should die by the bullet of this hate,
The creator chose that I be this, rather the dog that was spared.
By Adeshola Ademola. Follow @onedemola
Adeshola Ademola is a savvy Brand Strategist and Content Developer. A public speaker and a writer at heart. Acting and poetry (spoken words) are amongst his favourite pastime.