When A Nation Forgets Herself Poem by Emmanuel Ayeni

Tears carved a river down my face,
the first in years, a bitter trace.
I scrolled a feed of broken lands,
ruins slipping through weary hands.

Youths entangled in decay,
their minds and deeds have lost the way.
Bro and sis, hollow desires,
hearts consumed by fleeting fires.

Head ruthless, cold, untrue,
draining blood the nation knew.
Merchants of the pulpit scheme,
selling God and shattering dreams.

Mom staining innocence bright,
teaching daughters the dance of night.
Clothed in garments that strip their glow,
training seeds of shame to grow.

Sis parade their filth as art,
nudity crowned, a nation's scar.
Bro parade deceit and lies,
perversions worn without disguise.

Ask them what their labor yields,
they boast of "content" in empty fields.
And with bold lips they proudly claim,
a hollow crown, a hollow name.

But who to blame, when rot breeds rot?
A cursed soil forgets what's sought.
This land exalts the vile, the strong,
while burying voices that sing of wrong.

Ahh! ! ! too many wounds to bear,
too many scars etched everywhere.
My home, fallen, drained, decayed,
My abode is lost, my nation is dead.