he asked me my country's future? And
was startled I pointed to my smoking scars—
they are the path where I entered my pains.
I said.
my future wear prayers like sunglasses.
we only show others what we want them to know
lying to ourselves, thinking out body is a single person.
drowning in the arms of our potentials.
he asked me my country's road
where the
past had tared for our journey
through my eyes, he saw a fog future
linking only through to an un-motorable road —
where museum of scars and blood
are the only vualable display antiquity
and the violence a home where our beds are death
my country is a pregnant ******
whom everyone sleep with but no one want her baby
we call people friends just to suit our purpose
they are all fake because we are too. now i know.
don't **** yourself umar yogiza jr. don't die.
your heart is not full, no one's heart is.
i cannot go round waiting to be loved
everyone have themselves to love, and not enough.
The city walk, no one claim.
the village I left, no one claim.
stranger at home and outside home
all people care-for is their room.
yogiza, this city eat you like breakfast,
yet you
make your ancestral home stranger to feed you.
every eye on me is suspicion —now even mine.
if you ask me where am i going? i don't know!
the past, present and future had been claimed
i won't **** myself, i love you everybody i meet.
this is not my poem but yours. i want to smile.
Dec 12, 2018
Dec 12, 2018 at 11:22 PM UTC
he asked me my country's future? And
was startled I pointed to my smoking scars—
they are the path where I entered my pains.
I said.
my future wear prayers like sunglasses.
we only show others what we want them to know
lying to ourselves, thinking out body is a single person.
drowning in the arms of our potentials.
he asked me my country's road
where the
past had tared for our journey
through my eyes, he saw a fog future
linking only through to an un-motorable road —
where museum of scars and blood
are the only vualable display antiquity
and the violence a home where our beds are death
my country is a pregnant ******
whom everyone sleep with but no one want her baby
we call people friends just to suit our purpose
they are all fake because we are too. now i know.
don't **** yourself umar yogiza jr. don't die.
your heart is not full, no one's heart is.
i cannot go round waiting to be loved
everyone have themselves to love, and not enough.
The city walk, no one claim.
the village I left, no one claim.
stranger at home and outside home
all people care-for is their room.
yogiza, this city eat you like breakfast,
yet you
make your ancestral home stranger to feed you.
every eye on me is suspicion —now even mine.
if you ask me where am i going? i don't know!
the past, present and future had been claimed
i won't **** myself, i love you everybody i meet.
this is not my poem but yours. i want to smile.