A YOUNG BOY BREATHES HIS LAST BY TESTIMONY JESUTOFUNMI
Who shall we tell this tale? The tale of police prowling the street with hot rifles, Parading innocent heads with cuffs in hand. Peace we pray, bullet they spray How we live in perpetual fear; tales we dare not tell The horrific image of blood caused by khaki boys, The ones who ought to protect us plunder our lands, Harvest our youths and puncture them with bullets, Flames from rifles - boom, rhetoric! The silence that follows, A young boy breathes his last, The moaning, the groaning, Bleeding flesh, ocean of blood sailing a soul home, Mama’s name on his pale lips, hands grasping sand, Cold corpse … A young boy breathes his last.