Cursed are the
vagabonds in power
The voice of their
blood cries from the ground,
It will not be stilled by the fear of the gun,
They took the lights for the cover of the darkness,
Then shot into the crowd that peacefully protested.
What they hoped will
not be witnessed,
Was lit by the moon and stars above,
For nature in the night or day is never blind,
And justice shall come like a raging storm.
The day will not be
lost to our remembrance,
Upon the Cains that ordered this carnage,
Shall fall the gnashing of teeth and sorrow,
For which no pity will come to give succour.
We can see their
hands in their gilded palaces,
Wet and dripping with the blood of the innocent,
Speaking from both sides of their mouths,
Their fakes smiles and platitudes are rooted in evil.
Maggots shall begin consuming
them ere their demise,
Generations after shall carry the lament of gore,
For the innocent shall be fully avenged,
The martyred of Lekki have not gone in vain.
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