I and my mistaken identity
are altogether wrong
With me is me on this wrongful planet
Others think and feel right
Did anybody dare to consult me
even the creator himself?
If he were courageous enough
Did he think to consult me
He felt that he did his best to have me like me
I was rightful inside me
until they told me
my identity
Am I literally wrong because of me
I’m an African of confused culture
That is why I was wrongful enough
I’m a black Sudanese by origin
A second quality of me being mistaken
I’m a Dinka, a hateful identity
To them, Sudan, my home is ever on fire because of me
They think
If I were well colored
I was a good boy
They think
They think if all other black soil-natured Africans were different
They would have conquered
They would have recreated Sudan
They think that way
I and my mistaken identity
was never consulted
Before nature molded me into me
Before nature placed me in the savannah valleys of the Nile
Before nature placed me on expensive fossils fats
I hate it because it brought me pains
it brought to me a curse and suffering
If my cows could drink from oil
I hate an engine
Because it leads to engineering
it leads to the discovery of oil
Never would I have dared to face the creator
In the refusal me being myself
For being at the bleeding age of a troubled country
People called it the North-South border
It is where Parieng town is situated
Where nobody is there to say somebody is there
Where if am represented
Where government imports automobiles
That outnumbered the innocent population
Where metals exchange with fossils fat
Where it is barter trade
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