OTHER SIDE OF THE STORY

in poetry •  2 months ago

"...And the notorious Armed Robber was mashed to the mud, with his blood used as sacrificial offering to the thirsty lands of his unfortunate victims."
The news report reads.

Now listen and take account of my own version of the story.

See, I woke up to see the sun shine its beauty on the blueprint of the master plans I laced on the tip of the moonlight the previous night.
Together with the other misfits that, though knows all the corners of the classrooms so well,
just like the back of their own hands and I.
I wasn't the best with the pencil ways yet, good enough to draw guns with its triggers commanding the shots into the heart of the spheres,
but not men.

Just as we were about fleeing the site of our sin,
I caught a bullet from the firing pistols of the 'Protectors of the Law'.
My life history plays itself on a magical repeat at the far back of my mind,
as i breathed out the final seconds of life out of my soul.

I'm a son of this land,
rich in virtues of undeniable morals.
But itself, lost in the grasp of the society that ripped me off the heavens and
left me in cans dumped in rivers devoid of fish to feed my belly.
I swam to its bank and living my days in the shadow of neglects.

The rulers, or you'd call them leaders
Repeatedly stamped on my rights. Minding not if it leads straight to the mountain of my glory or
bend my ways away from the most evil of preys.
And in their own flames of greed, my luxuries are burned.

And now i die in agony in the pool of my hot blood.

What you think you witnessed is justice being served to my cup,
But what you failed to see is just another public show of a regular death
on this streets of struggles and
Inhumanity.
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