My Country Is My Sorrow 2

MY COUNTRY IS MY SORROW (with Paciolo Pen Saint)

She house lot of birds
There resides serpent
House of commotion
The young shall grow,
A thing of the past
Even its branches are nipped at bud
A trees with a gigantic stem
Yet a miniscule fruit
Pains flow through it veins
Still every year seems promising
Fruit feed on by the serpent
No hope for human
 Of what benefit will it be to a man
When it hasn't fed its dwellers
On its feet lay thousand leaves
Probably a thousand and one
Serpent curled around the branches
Milking it of its limited resources
Getting fatter and every opportunity 
Oh what a misery tale
Where  I reside
My sorrow is my country

Abisola (Sky Writes)
Copyright © | Year Posted 2020

Poem

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