WHAT IF I TOLD YOU (a poem by Sunsampaul Egwu)

What if I told you
I'm not you-man, but human,
Cos if you remove the you , I'm still a man.
For you- man isn't human.
I'm fearfully made with the powerful hands of God.

What if I told you
I'm not a Nigerian,
Even though my accent sound like that of a Fulani cow boy,
And my complexion tally with that of the talented igbo lad.

What if I told you
I'm one of those angels
Sent down from heaven,
To help write about freedom with their pens.
To deliver those in captive,
To behead those sadist
And make the world halcyon.

What if I told you
The evil they're doing
Will lead to  their early grave.
For no sinner shall go unpunished.
And theirs might be worst
If they refuse to desist
Since they find no means to resist.

What if I told you
Black doesn't mean Bad,
Even though they both begin with 'B'.
So let's stop judging by complexion
But by the content of character.

What if I told you
My pen is philosophical,
Penetrating deep into the heart of evil doers,
Devouring your devourers,
Tormenting your tormentors,
Fighting your fighters,
Deceiving your deceivers,
Giving peace to peace makers.

What if told you
Those children in the slum
Die every hour of malaria,
Mosquitoes now their neighbours,
Poverty waving in melancholy,
Cholera beating the drum of bad breathe on them,
Measles and acne smiling  at them.

What if I told you
Our hospitals are downtrodden,
Schools fallen,
Student engaged in malpractices,
Laboratories no where to be found,
Good teachers barely paid.
Yet they need the students to be leaders of tomorrow.

What if I told you
That our daughters suffered from excruciating pains,
Their glory-holes become penetrating holes.
They were raped in pains,
Bounded with chains,
Beaten with canes,
By those wicked women traffickers.

What if I told you
Our brothers who graduated with first class degrees,
Hunting for job for the past six years.
Yet ended up being  bus conductors,
Cos they were not given the chance to prove their intelligence.

What if I told you
Being nice to a girl
Doesn't obligate her
To be romantically attracted to you.
Some are for the money,
Whilst some needed to be horny.
They may even call you honey,
Whilst you're still moaning.
But at the end they'll leave you mourning,
While it's still morning.

©Copyright
#Sunsampaul d Philosopher
29-02-16
05:31am