BALLOT CORPSES

Here I am…

Tracing prints of bloodshed, the very blood you swore to protect

I have had my hands furnished in blood, the color of your atrocities

It seems I am only skillful in ending lives and redirecting ballot boxes

But I am done walking the wire

And I will no longer toe the line that redirects my eyes to your pieces of silver that mutes the volume of my conscience

All I ask…

Is a chance to prove my worth

Deliver my ideas like a mid-wive

All I ask…

Is a fair share

Not of the national cake but involvement in the baking process

Cos all I am is crump when I should be the major ingredient

There ought to be a difference

For you have sat for years

With photocopies of false intentions disguised as manifestoes

All I ask…

Is a chance to lead like you have?

I hope that is not too much to ask