Honourable Land

In this our honourable land, we smile while there is torture.
Rain dugs our cheek at early depature,
i forgot its an old culture.
Kirikiri is better than freedom,
i am weary of this kingdom, i thought we have buried sordom,
in it i see no but bordom.
Where is moses, sleep walking is our preacher,
his bell in a cold whisper,
it is not yet winter, yet our smiles geting fainter mourning is sour, morning maybe better

poem by Prince Chibuike
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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