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Photo by Jakob Owens on Unsplash

Wall For Sale

Walls for sale. Buy one, get a fake smile for free.
A few faithless hearts as well. Make yo ‘click.

We’re just as thick, pained and seething swell.
Don’t be shy, take a hit from Orson’s well.

How to be like Kanye? Or is your kind Beyoncé?

Don’t have to be on the sidelines nomo’
Must have the souls of the collateral swines fo sure.

Don’t trip, it’s not as big leap as it seems, even their screams are just wallpapers, screens to clean consciences and pushovers.

They’ve been here before, down this rabbit hole.
A sequel, a mock sequence of a modern age of stone:
cold phones, cold blokes, cold-blooded and old.

No need to go slow with the sponsored posts, fake news sells more than the youthful vote.
It’s not an old scenario, but they’re all sicarios, blood-hungry thugs with bones for shirts from Yagwa to Batibo.

No need to go slow on the roads, blazing with souls lost, tar drunk on young blood and lost dreams, false hopes for a country beyond the swerve of the unfulfilled existence stuck on a pole, dripping life away in screams and teary dreams of those left behind.

Walls for sale. Buy one, get a fake smile for free.
A few faithless hearts as well, kiss don’t tell. Make yo ‘click.

Souls for hire, get one vote plus fire to burn the truth,
all for a plate of good food and Guinness Smooth.

It’s not bragging if it’s true,
It’s not poetry if it’s true.

Written by

Cameroonian writer and video creator. Featured in LEVEL and P.S. I Love You. I write about building relationships and personal transformation.

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