When the names of the lost
Shall resound, I shall long be lost.
The road to hell be forgotten, then
My pains be seized for a moment.
When our distress,
In a land of distinct grace,
Shall whistle through the
Ears of the fathers of our children’s fathers,
Then, our change will return to hold.

For now,
We live in our excrement.

#nothing_puzzles_God
Chidi John

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