The voice of youth smiles dead in the old
An outcry like cold diamond in a mould
Hot as coal
Broken like emulsion in a bowl
They kept saying ‘keep calm’
Doused fires has never roast the yam
Candle lights never scare the ant
The old thinks they know what we want!
Our dented muscles, their mercury
Their wealth…Our penury
Our anger, our pillory
Muled voices is their share of poverty
Our voices are muffled scrambled rasta
Our opinions seems like dreaded monster
Some deeds invoke strange masters
The youths keep staring at a mirage of many spoilers!
[+] Written By: Odudu Akpaete of www.thunderboltpearlz.blogspot.com