Some Must Be Sacrificed For the Dream

Things we, sometimes, fail to see.

A few will be handed over

For millions washed dirt poor,

Dirt brown, stained like urban

Jungles in Detroit, Memphis,

And New Orleans.

An Xbox is my ex-wife,

Frivolous and expensive.

Some folks are too thick to set eyes on;

Men are proudly called sons, 

Lads with fettered brains

Telling again our story

Reminiscent of Ebu, Edo, and Kogi

Wearing iron bangles

And anklets. I found one

By an old stone building.

I used to savor the “fact”

That the walls were broken down.

A Playstation is like a train station;

We wait for them to take us back.

If I try to alter our short-comings

We will echo what we’ve heard

A thousand times: “But …”

What about them, they too are engrossed?

Some must be sacrificed; few are …

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