Perfect Bait

Pieces of the sun falling,

Hot it burns my heels,

Drying the place i call home,

As i run, run towards freedom,

Trying to free my tribalistic mind.


Fumes, in different shades and intensity,

Chocking my dreams of a better world,

Blinding my sight, The leaders i support,

Leaders i seldom choose,


Springs sprout from vehicles heavy,

Color my skin, blue and white,

Shower me with blessings disguised,

Itchy skin, my sweat it hides,

Little shades of red as i bleed.


Coal, color used to define my ancestors,

They whom, my flesh comes from,

A mother labored for hours, years maybe,

And birthed a selfish generation.


Guns, stones they all shoot the same,

Different mechanisms though, aim to shoot,

Shoot to kill, This mantra my mind it clogs.


Tears, Screams, i hope this they see,

Let them hide not their eyes from me,

The camera man didn’t take a wrong shot,

This place i call home,

No longer is sweet to me.






2 Comments Add yours

  1. Boygene says:

    I love this kind of art. Well phrased. I feel it


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