Vehemence 'hemence grows like a watered plant,
together with a mountain of profligacy,
Fighting us with an unkind rulership,
Driving our pretty hole to hell

our voice they poured away,
letting our moan grow in force,
death has invaded battalions pretty souls,
yet, they never want to bury them

the tempest has encamped our home,
Carrying away our bell in rage,
with depravity slipping our stand,
O, wind of sorrow splashes heavily

weak wicked soldier of the land,
mouth cut with a bountiful coin,
Motions hurdles with crookedness,
with flame of fire hunting our loin,

the tempest of death and hurt,
drowning our youths and greens in rage,
moving freely without a hand to halt,
still our soldiers are not a sage

the commanders pretext to be muddled,
Seeing not the miseries and raging storm,
that's drowning souls like a mainstream,
yet, refused to help the drowned heads

Now we have no way,
than to swim in the stream of death,
and watch ruin wreak our wealth,
with no word from them to say

we have found death and put in our pocket,
found miseries and wear it as necklace,
with our innocent birth called to tears,
O, the raging tempest claimed all their might

A city of no love,
A man born to serve till death,
And soldiers trained to hide for death,
in servitude we were captured to die, labor and strive to grave

© Enyis Shakes