By Mwaniki Wa Muriuki; Nairobi, Kenya
They agreed to agree to butcher them
For their voices are silent
And their cries, quiet
Not a pitch higher as theirs shouting shrieks
Ever audible enough to be heard
And they butchered them
For their voices are with the host
And the host in a snap of her finger
Them they could legally, wilfully free oust!
Scissors and secateurs are ever ready to act
A piece for a piece to sever and pull out
They are the licenced reapers of these little lives
What feeling matters in them?