Warriors Lament

The warriors lament on the hills
Their graveyards reek of remorse
Hate swords piercing selfless hearts
They shed their blood in vain
A hungry man with pocketfuls stones
Picketing for a bellied politician
Slandering the brotherly tear
Fifty shillings worth of bread
A miracle enough for a blind one
Another one calls theirs superior
Belittling the hand salting their food
In defence of the class that rules
A class caring not of his shelter
He prides in a vacuumed illusion
The warriors lament in the jungle
Their voice smell of failure
Quashed dreams of a united nation
The country foresaw in rubbles.