Debris At the Golden Gates

Tainted wits... blurred in clarity, a madman's coronation... our country's plight. atlas, we are home, choked in parity another to our last 51, the journey's so far. can we break the walls? This imagination, a shattering throne. when city's celebrate a thousand birth-years, then we recollect another bloodshed... 52 million heads in 52 dying years. what a shame! My country of birth civilized cannibals, through kingdoms of ancient gods to masquerades in government house...our golden gates. BOKO HARAM? lies. another lie, Can of worms... debris at the golden gates, At 27,I look older than my country's age what years of tears had done to my teenly skin, my skipping heart would have been younger in Queensland. Another death rate on our golden birth...52? decades of misuse... reckless abandonment, while the slim pigs eats porridge, fattening to unconsciousness in American clinics once parading as good Shepherds, we are all gone, pocketted in their fat pockets. 52 years of ferocious reigns, when he's gone.. yet another one Olusegu..abach, babangi, jona... No calling names, Yet they all wear the same masks. Maggots at the golden gates...snakes at the states secretariates, traditional money-bags... nothing is left to cry for. we are finished dry... the tears are all gone... though not fools, we only watch.