What Can I Say?

Picture used to illustrate the poem | Daily Post
When nature turns life to market of terror
Many souls gone with dreams ‎unachieved
Nobody to this rescue of their crying eyes
I tried to make it my cross, my pen a sword?
Only to be jacked by the devils real sword
From life, living is getting tough to touch
The wicked we are, so the weaken we are
What are those word of swords in arsenal?
‎From north to Jupiter, here comes the cries
Innocent and suffering, the dead we counts
The more we lament, so grows their deaths
‎Like the slaughter slab, here is our own state
Where the heart chews, many souls are buried 
So much cry dropping, from sons to daughter
So much cry pouring, from wives to husband
So much is my bleeding, coming from my pen
What do I write, what can I say here to be safe?
Seems speech is said to be free with no freedom
Only the affected can explain the pin gives pain
Like the dead sea, no one here sees the end
Like the heavens call, it makes many bleeds
Not yet Uhuru, this course is like our cross
Here we move it around like our own cause
Even the world feels the touch of this course
Hitting the world from generation to another
Like an inferno, Somalia feels more of the hit
Like an horror, Borno now a place of terror
Like a war front, agitation is from the east
Just like the killing in Benue is not the least
All around the globe, our peace now in pieces
If I could help with my pen, What can I say?
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