By Nianglong modesty
U14mm1152.
In the land of many hills, at the time when farmers went to till the ground, prayers went up to heaven for rain what a time to be alive, but for how long? clouds darkened and gathered. They awaited rain, but got a blood bath. I've seen terrible things among the sons of men, the head of a cow exchange for a human head in the market. Joy usually comes in the morning, herdsmen came at night and left them mourning. Scorched with scars that can heal. underneath it a heart that bleeds, no more tomato Jos. plants need water to grow not blood, they need the peace not the peace talk. The media is only telling the news, they are not interested in telling the truth left at the mercy of a government that is confused. Hardly do we have mass weddings Saturdays are suddenly for mass funerals, once a playground now a grave yard. The men on the hills have observed a million minutes of silence heaven still seem silent. To pray for themselves or to pray for their enemies? They say a prayer before they go to sleep but their eyes must remain awake to live. will men decided to live in peace? Or must we all bow to death to live in peace? stop shedding innocent blood on the plateau.
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