Its a Strife not a Life

According to the story of their life, Life is good apparently,

Or is it the picture that is painted the differently,

Or is it that they don’t want to put the pain into paint,

Or could it be the pain that's too much to paint

My mind just went overboard

Staring at a sight extremely plain

So i have decided to tell it as I see it,

I have my aches, but somebody has to try                                           

  The kind of life we're living, we no longer friends, we claim to be

We’ve lost all brotherly love we all once proclaimed,

We live like members of the disciplined forces,

But with immense lack of the discipline,

Like a sick army with no hope of any medicine

Yet the disease is escalating,

Feeding on our minds with negative ethnicity

Spreading fast from the villages in up-country to cities in the counties

All claiming to fight for the same side,

Yet we refuse to work as a team with no shame,

If we are all after the same prize, why is everybody paying their own price?

Are we still a team?

We call each other brothers,

But we're living a life worse than that of soldiers in the battlefield 

We are soldiers with solidarity deficiency syndrome.
When one of our own takes a hit, we keep marching,

Like a soldiers   on their marching orders

Our writers write that we should live without limits,

I wish they could also write a manual on how to achieve that,

Especially now when our leaders don't allow us to survive even within the limits

We are living a life where a motivational speaker with suicidal thoughts streaming in the back of his mind, is promising hope for a brighter the future,

And preacher preaching peace on his lips,

But still you can trace a concealed piece on the hip.

Life where kids are told by their parents

To read to become the leaders of tomorrow,

Only for them to grow up and walk into the agony of telling their kids

  

The same old phrase "to lead you must read"       

The version remains unchanged   passed on upon generations like a hereditary treasure

What a shame, they never became, leaders

Because they couldn't rise through the ranks,

It’s not late and nothing is impossible they were told,

Later when they are too old, frail and lame,

They realise it’s late,

Everything seems impossible,

47 counties, 42 tribes, all in 1 place

Using hate and race to rank and rate,

Still, it’s horrible even when you are of the same tribal roots

You must pay bribes to survive as they loot.