Regrets of true liberators
2 min readBy Atok Dan
You did lay it to rest
The mammoth, the heft task though you cry
Your selfless sacrifices are immeasurable
You generation of waste,
You died, amputated but never given up
For you silenced wailing of orphans
Your children, the posterity of future
Your widows, the custodians of love
The cries of liberator
Regrets of true liberators of liberation,
For they have forgotten you
For your reddish pigment nourished the soul of pride
the bowl of soup,
the tray of bread,
And the spoon of lust and greed
For you bartered them by your blood
The blood of wasted generation
He did take it, the pride of past
Little that did he belabor to claim it,
it is hijacked
Harvesting the fruits of your labor
You wasted generation
He took it, twisted it
For if the silver head is brought back,
the bald headed
For he will forsake the pride of his labor
For he will curse his death,
For he is coiled up decently in final rest
In loggerhead,
They turned your pride into theirs
Inheritors of pride,
Your pride
Cries the braved men of liberation
For the hijacked mission
Not even peeled off the fruits is yours
It is theirs, the inheritors of your work
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