You see me broken,
like the soft hands of a glass,
fix me and let the pains hurt less
We are a sad generation with happy faces
that the world refused to see
but through the blurry images of darkness
we dim in the rays of hope
The sun burned the back of our neck
that hot afternoon, as unarmed protesters, in Lekki
with lips and words that fought for freedom
We watched as a thousand bullets,
swept some from the face of the earth
What sad notes should we not write about
In a season like this?
And that night, it rained heavily
I saw through the broken windows
the suffering of people in the dark streets
Their tears that echoed in the rain
Drained them in the room of leaking tops
As our leaders lay on their bed of paradise, Alas!
It's a sad reality,
that we read like pages in our heart
our notes are as sad as us
And when dawn sleeps on us,
the sounds of freedom awaken our spirits
We are the sad notes of a generation.
- David Onojah
