For gods and men
There’s a King who wears the clothes of a god,
And mask his face with the shadow of death.
His subjects cower at the whisper of his name,
And bury their fears in their meals.
Sweat and blood have nourished his crops,
Planted by hands that are swallowed by hate.
A king is no king
Without the blessings of his people.
Else, he is a brother to tear gas and the whip,
Drowning the voice of any that tries to speak up.
He has however forgotten who he is;
And like every tyrant, he’s final words
Will be drowned by the silence of the night
And echoed in Schools’ History.
By Samuel Nzebor
Samuel Nzebor is a third year student of Law, University of Benin. His works have appeared on Kalahari, Praxis Magazine, Tuck Magazine amongst others. He hopes to connect to the world through poetry.