Shelter Of Justice.

In my motherland, Where I was a breadbasket, I see a reactionary storm strike, Wrap our crops, and eat us to bewilderment. Children got eliminated from precautionary; They danced to the beat of darker justice like a wide fire. Their bodies flew; they got exhausted by a little trash. A cause of trypanosomiasis, Breastfeed them with corruption, Their mouths were spoon-fed with lies. An absence in the book seems like their noble prize. Another masterpiece glamorizes violence: The depression ellipse, Where the eyes lie in myopia. I have seen my fellow peers, With posters posting in the streets with word scribbles like “If you like, kill my ma and pa; I will still vote for you". Look how horrible and terrible these sayings are. Are there scenarios for respiration? Does this saying look like oxygen to our nostrils? Breathless as we breathe, our nostril cloak, Life's struggle, similar to one's laying under oxygen, Makes a fight in respiration seem like a debt. Now that we swim, our ship has sunk. Agony vows to justify its twist. ©J. Momodu Talisman Kromah, Jr.