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And there he has to die for himself at abject poverty Far from flunky folks as to who shall be blame Who shall I echoes from shores of shrinelet of deity Who shall I saunter at an evening out without shame For their deathless fame, for an inanimate living soul To life without faith at hand, from their fearless Thought you couldn't imagine? From his fretless foul Where he harm no one at most. For him he died helpless For him he kept no one but faultless faith For him shall anyone complain his cruelties? He a roared figured of honesty from birth With his simplicity to quashed hunger at difficulties I had nothing doth but to washed my hand off him Where his soul sparks as a giant gem
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Mar 26, 2020
Mar 26, 2020 at 10:47 AM UTC
Tears of an African Widow.
And there he has to die for himself at abject poverty Far from flunky folks as to who shall be blame Who shall I echoes from shores of shrinelet of deity Who shall I saunter at an evening out without shame For their deathless fame, for an inanimate living soul To life without faith at hand, from their fearless Thought you couldn't imagine? From his fretless foul Where he harm no one at most. For him he died helpless For him he kept no one but faultless faith For him shall anyone complain his cruelties? He a roared figured of honesty from birth With his simplicity to quashed hunger at difficulties I had nothing doth but to washed my hand off him Where his soul sparks as a giant gem
NjathaSonneteer
Written by
20/M/The Gambia
Mar 26, 2020
Mar 26, 2020 at 10:47 AM UTC
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