The dictator said,
Go home and take a gun
and kill that primitive young adult of this land.
He is wise and yet ignorant.
I wonder if it’s that simple?
I am a young primitive adult, belonging to this land.
I went to fight in Mogadishu, then Baydhabo, then here.
My father is a commoner, nature is my mother.
I am who I am, so what do you say?
I am the only cloud that covers you,
I am the wings of this land.
It’s not easy to know what’s true for you and me
I am who I am, the destruction of your integrity
I love to die but wait, not for your sake but of mine and our nation.
I write but you understand not, you have eyes yet you see none.
Should I still write?
For if I keep writing your blood circulation will stop.
We are both humans, but you are so different
You are colored, yet no one notices your color.
That’s our land, sometimes you might not want be part of,
no does it want to be part of you,
yet you are lucky because you are worthless.
Let me be your instructor, to be your investigator.
You dictate, destruct and delude,
So will my page shine your dark, dull and dust mind.
I guess you put the guns away, they are harmless to our land
yet harmful to you.
This is my gun, to kill the pests
and your vision is my mission.
