Another head beneath these boots,
a little more blood on my hands;
deep beneath the smoke and rubble
lies my humanity, my lost sanity.

Voices, in tandem with my demons,
drown my consciousness in a sea of
thoughts, and call to me, inching me
ever closer to nonexistent succour.

Man by nature is a political animal,' it's said.
Turns out it's true, that of our will we fight,
and of our will we live or die fighting our own,
first to survive, and then dominate.

From power surges out corruption, birthing
bribery, manipulation and more sins,
That man may gather strength
and not remain a weakling.

But ought we not to stop this madness, and
strive to follow peace, with dialogue and
laughter, not sword and smoke, for one alone
is a weakling; but one with many, an army.

That amidst of all warring, man may hold honor
that the world may hear your voice from the guns
you held, your screams from the bullets in you,
that in death, you died a hero.

AUTHORS:

Shrugs 6ukunmi and Ruthie RuthieBalo.