I heard footsteps,
Clanging on the ground,
In a rhythm that could doze the ears,
But the eyes recoiled upon realizing it was armed men in Khaki,
Looking stern and unagreeable.
And then I heard voices that sojourned from afar,
Knocking, on the mission to relay the screams of help! Help!! Help!!!
The air itches, atmosphere scares,
Only iron hand from above could help, As all heads in the know of terror sang the song of asylum.
I heard blood running from the point of deaths that littered the ground, to meet with the blood from the other side at a spot to make the stream where the dead took their last bath.
WE heard a sound of resolved walks, hurrying closer in confidence of guns ready to resume obeying the grim reaper's orders;
But the fears it exerted proved futile, having been overcome by aggrieved and gnawing will that sprang from differing hearts and with gallantry of the stormed trees, the wind was trampled under the faith of unity of ascending savanna.
©Olaitan
