Dear boys, have your mind fixed in the dead arms around your waist. You are closer to the streamlines of hope. We are not sure of how hell would look, we are not even sure of how heaven would also look like but we’ll likely not allow your shadows roam in the Vacuum where emptiness rules. Emptiness stumbled upon on the ocean of thoughts.

Boys, your breeze of your thoughts were the first thing we saw opening our doors. Your blood spoke first, then, your shadows roamed into our eyes through the harshness of the herdsmen daggers. We were shocked when the wind brought the tales to our ears of how you were slaughtered. Body separated, arms and legs tied around like a goat ready to be killed. Your ghost agitated protesting against the callousness of the noon in their hands.

It may be a single sin or a multitude of sins if we do not learn to make our mouths drums to tell of this crime lavaged on our forehead. We have printed sorrow on the pages of blank papers, we have knitted sweat and blood together then allowed our inconsistency introduce hunger of lost ones into our life. We have failed you and the stories went though like a pieces of forgotten land in a lagoon. We created a country that only seek for the interest of it own. We created a lootful land where blood speak louder than water ... http://syncityng.com/2018/07/11/the-boy-child-voice-with-john-chizoba/