We lived in peace and harmony, drinking from the rivers of acronyms. The lines and rhythms of our greatness rhymes. On the faces of citizen were lines of grins, because the pastures were green. A country regarded as the Squire of the continent, where joy and happiness were prominent. A home regarded as a tycoon of Success, where dukes and duchess resides, and the fate of the Continent they decide.
Giant of Africa was her name
The title was based on her virtue. She didn’t get it by veto, it was memento.
De facto, she earned it as a tribute regarding reward for her attribute. Things were going fine in the land flooded with milk and honey until something happened…
You know when purpose is lost, we live on hope, a land coated with a lot of scope – where hope is a god – and the masses appraise it with their blood.
Our leaders bought our purpose, leaving us with nothing else than the hope of a better tomorrow. But of what good is a better tomorrow if today is filled with sorrow? Our elders says; the man who lives in fantasy tends to die in fallacy.
The problem is not from the leaders alone, what do you call a man of vision that refuse to see?