Blood On The Keyboard

They say the world is moving fast;
and so must we.
But somewhere along the way,
some lost the map;
and mistook crime for craft,
rituals for hard work,
fraud for fame.

A boy logs in; not to learn,
but to lure.
A girl scrolls; not for schoolwork,
but for sugar daddies and soft boys.
They say it’s “the hustle.”
They call it “sharpness.”
But beneath that sharpness,
innocence bleeds.

Girls, too, are not spared.
Not all, but enough to scare.
Some say, “Why read when I fit run things?”
Some no longer count books,
they count blessings from men old enough to be curses.
And worse, some become currency
in rituals they never signed up for.
Na the girls dey suffer pass sometimes.
Used, dumped, or sacrificed
on the altars of fast money.

They no longer whisper;
they boast.
Fraud has become a fashion trend,
and rituals,
yes, real rituals:
are hidden in music,
packaged in comedy,
glorified in silence.

ALSO READ: Ashes Within The Silence

They say “Yahoo no be crime”
but prisons tell a different story.
Graves too.
Mental homes too.

They sleep with snakes;
walk into forests;
burn candles at midnight;
carry soap and sacrifice.
All to update lifestyle,
all to pepper Instagram.

And now the smoke.
The cough syrup.
The pills.
The laughter that ends in tears.
The mind, once brilliant,
now burns in confusion.
They call it cruise;
but the crash is near.

Some parents see and smile.
After all, the boy is “helping the family.”
He bought the phone.
He paid the rent.
But dem no dey ask: with wetin conscience?

Where is the pride of honest work?
Where is the dignity of effort?
Where is the future
when the present is borrowed
from blood and lies?

We are no longer safe.
Not in schools,
not in homes,
not even in dreams.

But today, we say:

Enough.

We choose light.
We choose books over blood.
We choose purpose over pressure.
We choose dignity,
even when it’s not trending.

Because:

We are not slaves to shortcuts.
We are heirs of honour and hope.
We will rise;
not through shrines,
but through sense, skill, and sacrifice.

Let the world keep running.
We will arrive,
but clean.

©2025 Divramredje Lawrence Efeturi
All Rights Reserved. ®