a dream I see for years

The road ahead seems dark with fear;                                                                                                                     an hour feels like a year                                                                                                                                                        I take each step,                                                                                                                                                        with no guide or map  

I seat on oil fields and gold,                                                                                                                                                 yet I’m so poor and cold                                                                                                                                               Its dawn but the first glimpse of sunlight is hardly visible,                                                                                          the white shores are pile of litters, nothing pleasurable

Thunder keeps roaring louder                                                                                                                                         and hovering over the horizon are dark grey clouds                                                                                                 that never seems to fade                                                                                                                                                       as if it was eternally made, 

a storm is mounting and is far from over                                                                                                   Suddenly, like melting wax, the mountains pour larva                                                                                    Where then could I take cover?                                                                                                                                                 I just can’t get over                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   

At one end the storm and the other eruption,                                                                                                                   I can feel destruction                                                                                                                                                          and overwhelm with deprivation                                                                                                                                                              It is a terrible dream, sighs!! Oh, Corruption,

my little nation crippled by corruption                                                                                                                             And not a day goes by without me wondering;                                                                                                                      I seat by and ponder                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                about my little pond.