Legacy Poem by Morakinyo Temiloluwa Bolarinwa

Where are they all at,
the frontline singers of warcries,
gullible goliaths and gallant galatians,
all vanishing before their echo dies.

Could they be afraid of their own voices,
or the terror to which the voice went,
unprepared for consequences of choices,
unwilling to unfold with consequent event.

Legacy may be all that is then left,
its what remains for all men born,
when the bone rots and flesh is gone,
but history is craft for those who evade death.

Should warcriers not lead the battle,
wise ones willing to fight for beliefs.