I carefully write down my thoughts.
Great is the grief I'm made to carry 
What happened to my brother's sanity? 
Look, his hands chopped as though they were spinach.

The wailing sound travels far into the hollowed space.
My tears burn my skin as they roll down my cheeks as though they were squeezed from Hell.

Love has no place in our lives.
We sold our peace for a piece of paper.
Our little children turned into monsters.
The stones we trample upon are now worth more than my people's lives.

While we kill each other for it, they give each other as a symbol of love.
The diamond in my country is made of blood.

Cry FreeTown for you're no longer free.

Written by: Elijah Enenche Peter.
The Night Owl Poetry.