Innocent Son of a Tyrant
Father and son in the same world, facing opposite directions
both consciences battle it out in the ring beneath the palace
if his father won’t be in hell, he will be five minutes late
a man of no honour, less reverenced than his own white horse
this young man hawks kindness to his people to see the difference
but they are ravaged by the fungal itch of his dad
his hands are open to ease them of their pain from blisters
they reject from the perceived smell of the palace’s butchery
the man sitting on the throne flunks his people’s welfare
to the son, without their love, there’s no freedom
what is the use of a conglomerate without loyal employees?
why should the affliction of a people be a mortal’s delicacy?
in his dad’s chapter of the kings’ chronicles
he forbids the nation’s historians to write down his name.
if he’ll be the next leader, his father’s portrait will be painted in red.
Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2020
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