MAYBE
They know not the agony of our men,
Like they don't know the bitterness on our buds.
Maybe we should agree to their innocence,
That the fellow are not threatened in the real sense.
Maybe
Their favorite too is the conventional concoction rice
At times they are also unclothed
Like the clothless Iponjudiran and her toothless husband
Obiri-aye the father of Aditu in the city of Ìpọ́n.
Maybe, maybe
Their wards too were always sent packing at Oxford
Before they struggle to pay in sweat of salts
They at times saw the sealers of paste
Only to have their mouth cleaned and lightened
Hiding their tears under the glowing teeth
Maybe, maybe we are all the same.
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