Cheats, robbers and scoundrels sprout
Fleeting reward, yet filthy like grit
Pulling the youth into illegal scouts
So disheartening, I have to scribble a script
In the fruit of ones sweat
Lies the hands of another
Plotting and scheming of dirt
They call no one a brother
One gets lucky or one gets caught
Taking advantage of the things that I sought
Marring the foundation of how innocent we were
Rampant is this canker, society cannot bear
I shed gore to someday feed from a golden chalice
And sweat to settle the family into a palace
My sweat is unfairly relished by a lazy culprit
And I shed tears because security was an accomplice
The very mortals we trust for protection
Backstab us in rejection
We witness Police sidelining with misfits, freeing them from cells
And we do not call them thieves themselves
Vigilantes! Vigilantes! , I guess there are none left
So mind-boggling is this disaster to society
A sow of groundnuts will not reap bran
I always believe the Lord has a plan
Yiah Safwan
Archive 2015
The Yiah 