In submission I yielded to the clarion call,
You clothed me in drills and labour
The rigour akin to the harsh whip of our slave masters.
Soldiers, camp commandant, platoon officers
All made me weep in regret.
I was issued a meal ticket
Malnourished from food with sparse ingredients
Food meant for prisoners on death row
Perhaps, even, bad enough to wake the dead.
My settlement was a beehive of activities;
Filled with people; teaching, smoking and lounging.
I took solace in the body of village girls
Randomly occupying the honeypot between their legs.
What a pity !
I also sought satisfaction in the bosoms of local girls.
As I agonized that I wasted my time and energy on meaningless tasks,
Like birds beating their wings,
Against the bars of a cage, in a struggle for freedom.
In the end, I was greeted with a paper;
My name was stamped boldly on it
It resembled a certificate
Which signified my freedom
From the chains of modern slavery.
I took it with mixed feelings
Danced away my sorrows into the winds
Filled with happiness, freedom and prospects.
Even the musicians dropped their instruments
To applaud.
By Adetayo Omotoyosi Adeolu
omotoyorsiiadeolu@gmail.com
omotoyorsiiadeolu@gmail.com
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