The Funeral Ram Poem by John Chizoba Vincent

Hit me hard, i will not talk
smack me, i will bear the pains
I was made for this cause to die
For did they not say that a man is
Like a funeral ram which must take
Whatsoever beating comes to its body without
Opening its mouth that the silent
Tremor of pain down its body alone
Must tell of its suffering?
Men has taken greater blow than this
i have received much pains within
My young dark days in this world

I was made to travel through this lane
To satisfy the cause of man kind
Who shall bell the cat?
All are excited to see me fall
For the debt i know nothing of
To supplicate to their deaf gods
Centuries may answer my kind
But now i will die to pay
The ransom for the redemption of the mourners

What comfort does a died man derive
From the knowledge that his murderers Were happy?
Just say me well to my children behind
Let them take heart for the creator knows all
Life among our kind is turn by turn
Today is my turn, tomorrow might be theirs
We have no choice than allow them take our lives
My soul seek no hope but safe journey
To the other phase where my ancestors live