Jan 2019
The streets are tattooed with potholes and the sidewalks are covered in broken glasses.
Our bodies are demolished and stripped off from all integrity and decency.
The road to having crisp air, diluted wars and unpolluted humanity is foggy. It fights off all good fortune like a new born baby counting his seconds on earth.
We belong to the categorised society, the one that's heart beats with sorrow and skin is impregnated with melanin.
The nation is an equation, divided, torn apart like an old cloth with stains of dried up blood.
It's ******* are dry , wrinkly and contaminated .The painful strokes on our backs are escalating. They walk towards our chests ,ooze in blood and opens themselves up to beg for mercy.
Mothers with squirming innocence on their backs. Their home is built of threats and poverty . It holds on for dear life during the winter and breathes relief during the summer.
The children's appearances are misleading. They are all bony. Their eyes are tucked in deep into their skulls like the home of a porcupine. Turning nothing but a blind eye to the inequality and pain that they hAve to endure.
Fathers partake on a journey to seek for the daily bread. They embark on the beast of Hope. He breathes steam and his skin is coated with the color of the sun set. His feet are inclined to the railway.
It bends and runs to a place of hope. A place where the only purpose a male child lives for in our country.
The tools are weeping and begging for a taste of water.
Their skins are suffocating. And howl for a glimpse of fresh air.
But rest is a luxury that the tools rarely taste.
A luxury men wish for day and night.. under the red acres of the sun and when the skies weeps sympathy for it's fellow brothers.
We are entitled to the misfortune and great grief. Poverty is our clan name. It walks with us daily , under our feet that's embroidered with blisters and broken heels. Cuts as deep as the Kimberly hole .
We are the black endangered mammals with nothing but equality to fight for.
Our bodies are demolished and stripped off from all integrity and decency.
The road to having crisp air, diluted wars and unpolluted humanity is foggy. It fights off all good fortune like a new born baby counting his seconds on earth.
We belong to the categorised society, the one that's heart beats with sorrow and skin is impregnated with melanin.
The nation is an equation, divided, torn apart like an old cloth with stains of dried up blood.
It's ******* are dry , wrinkly and contaminated .The painful strokes on our backs are escalating. They walk towards our chests ,ooze in blood and opens themselves up to beg for mercy.
Mothers with squirming innocence on their backs. Their home is built of threats and poverty . It holds on for dear life during the winter and breathes relief during the summer.
The children's appearances are misleading. They are all bony. Their eyes are tucked in deep into their skulls like the home of a porcupine. Turning nothing but a blind eye to the inequality and pain that they hAve to endure.
Fathers partake on a journey to seek for the daily bread. They embark on the beast of Hope. He breathes steam and his skin is coated with the color of the sun set. His feet are inclined to the railway.
It bends and runs to a place of hope. A place where the only purpose a male child lives for in our country.
The tools are weeping and begging for a taste of water.
Their skins are suffocating. And howl for a glimpse of fresh air.
But rest is a luxury that the tools rarely taste.
A luxury men wish for day and night.. under the red acres of the sun and when the skies weeps sympathy for it's fellow brothers.
We are entitled to the misfortune and great grief. Poverty is our clan name. It walks with us daily , under our feet that's embroidered with blisters and broken heels. Cuts as deep as the Kimberly hole .
We are the black endangered mammals with nothing but equality to fight for.
