Days have gone Mornings and nights have changed Every new day my lifespan gets reduced I keep on seeing people changing Relatives fighting and allowing hate to occupy their life And all this makes me think about you my son Who is about to come to this world of ours. Here, life is not easy or fair People eat after sweating Panhandlers on the streets beg Some get coins from good hearted folks while others get beaten A tycoon with a plenty of things snatches the little of the pauper And at times, no proper justice is given for the oppressed. Women cuckold their spouses Others have severe accidents To the extent they’re left with no chance to breathe again They make their way to heaven or hell. Well, my son, I’m not writing all these words with the intention to threaten you Instead, I want you to know how this world is And by the time you’ll come in it, try to speak and express yourself, walk with the truth and maintain a distance between you and the fools. Stay away from drugs; help your mother and siblings in case I’ll not be there with you Enlarge your eyes and see Open your ears and listen to those in need Promote a strong friendship Between you and the paper and the pencil They’ve been my friends for a long time believe me They’re good friends and I’m pretty sure that they’ll comfort you in times of depression and difficulty This is written from the bottom of my heart. I love you my son..... BY OBED SHYAKA
