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Hunger Thief

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Every hashtag of the virus is loud
But now the police brutality is louder
Do you not see my nose mask?
Yet you hit me
Do you not see I’m trying to survive?
Yet you beat me
Who told you I do not love my life?
Yet I must eat
Do you wish I starve to death?
Yet I must dare
Dare or Die
Which way Nigeria?

Thief! Thief!! Thief!!!
Yells the angry mob of venomous bruts
More engulfing and thunderous was the roar
Falling from the eyes of the bloodshot bruts
I saw him covered with blood, his own blood.


We all steal but perhaps none of us is a thief.
Perhaps, only when you are caught, you wear the crown of a thief.
His streaming blood covered the earth like a stormy flood
I could feel every strike piercing my soul like the Spears of Sparta
Tons of heavy sticks and planks falling on him,
Different inches of bricks raining on him.

They want to kill him,
He is the thief, the thief they caught.
And now they want justice, their jungle justice.
What about the “agbada” and “khaki” men who steal and are caught?


No one seeks for justice,
whether jungle or legal justice.
But this is a hunger thief
He wants to be meaningful to himself and society,
But this dream is only an illusion due to the meaninglessness of the society.

We were in this together!
His groans tell a thousand unseen and unheard stories from his bleeding eyes.
He was stretching his hands towards me
Perhaps, calling on a brother to save him.
But this brother also needs to be saved.
Or perhaps he is pointing to a partner in crime,
I couldn’t save him.
His breathe is gradually sniffing out from him.

The lacerations on his body maimed him, his eyes roll in death.
Thief!!! They called him.
Why couldn’t he beg?


How can he beg, where can he beg, who will he beg from?
When beggars are now givers and givers have nothing left to give?
When we all are beggars, who then becomes our saviour?


Because even the saviour needs to be saved?
How many more hunger thief would they kill?
Because we are scattered like sands on the bloody devilish streets.
‘Save him’ is the cry of my silent whisper roaring in my head.


A man in chains must not die in chains!
Save him, save me, save us!!!
Was the cry that rent the air.


We are not the looters, the usurpers, or the legal criminals.
The real thieves are in the brick houses and rock houses.
They are in their castles and palaces.
We are not thieves, just a hunger thief.

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