Behind them four walls,. There is justice that calls,. For them the innocent,. Can it be it was all just fate?
Getting out to them unable,. Their life like another fable,. Their day to freedom they wonder,. When they’ll once again wander,
It was all so quick,. That you can tell it’s been a week,. Pointless are the days to count,. For the day should I say doesn’t get out,
Boys exposed to drugs aren’t to blame,. Since the boy child is neglected at home,. They value what ain’t worth,. Instead of teaching what’s worth,
Our leaders if I may say, what good do you do each day,. Other than your game of politics, yet you later complain on ethics,
My people who work hard,. Blackmailed for crimes heard,. Aren’t we fed up with this,. My friend ,do you agree with all this?
If that’s what you call justice,. Rather we stay without its presence,. Cause even an innocent toddler, soon begins toiling the land,.
Paying the price of being in an injustice world,.
By Joy Kirima