The mud on pretty legs
Have grown wings and flown to the faces of kings
And made the body loose it's beauty without apology
Everyone has to eat from it against their will; because like butter,
It spreads, sticks and gums to any surface that embraces it.
Lorries fall without plan as tricycles get stuck while trying to escape.
Food is withheld for the day as milk is denied the infant.
Faces looking like wet mud as the sky shed tears of relief.
The city set on the mountain tops has it's legs covered with the mud.
The road gave way in bits and the crowns gave in to their bellies.
The people became spiders perching around corners to move about,
Yet their pretty legs were painted by the mud.
Peace went mute in the street, as cars hit cars and friends scold friends.
Each tear drop of the sky multiplied the mud on the prettiest of legs.
I didn't take it to heart even when Mmesoma's mum poured her eyes out like the sky do these days.
Because her processed money chose the mud over her head.
But I saw her pains stain my hands,
As I watched my father bleed to death wearing the mud like a suit;
Because the floor was slippery and he crashed himself with the big lorry,
While trying to fly like a spider and avoid the mud on pretty legs
I hate the men on crown because they preferred their fat pockets to the lives wrecked by the mud on pretty legs...
©Achi Gp Nuel
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