Maybe before you will be reading this, I am far gone
Humans,unbehalf of my race, accept my apologise. We are sorry
Lassa fever
The debt all rats pays
A loan from the slums
Where we are few too many
Our mouths try to break barriers
We stab leftovers either by throw or catch
We determine our living by people’s kitchen
We were not poor,circumstances sharped us into this…
I am Figi by name
The first and only Son of Figri
The grandson of Frigirey
We are nobles,
Born into a world of horns and thorns
We had culture, just no perseverations
For snakes are known for their lengths
We are good crafts men,we built into smartness
My fathers father,told my father
That humans once liked us,
Not until the cat came.
We are appetite initiator’s
For a rat nose connects faster than the wifi
It drags the kitchen closer to the mouth
If I die,my remains are left for praises
For this death is no stranger’s dead
I die a figri and I die in frigirey…
