When you cry about Dad beating you,
You nag about mum over scolding you,
How you siblings wouldn’t let you rest,
We wish to have all your troubles and even more.
Most of our young age we spend without having those special ones,
Same special figures you have but don’t value,
Having someone to share our deepest worries with is a luxury,
For us Christmas Salah Neyyear is like every other day.
We might not have a rosy part,
Our present might seem shaky,
But the race to the future is widely open,
Weather or not we have a level playing ground depends on perception.
Our hands are our relatives,
Just like Hobbes our mother gave birth to twins,
She birthed fear and we,
We killed the twin (fear) in our quest to achieve all we ever crave.
A black pot surely can begot a while substance,
With the right work no limitations to your success,
The child of a charcoal seller can wear all white someday if he aspire to,
Blessed are those who become something from nothing.
✍🏽 Lawal Sultan
FB: Lawal Sultan