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  • Writer's pictureMo Malele

Memoirs of a journey

Try to put in the hours

but I am still called a coward

try to put in the hard labour

but I still can’t find my savior

I put in the hours I’m spinning but people refuse to be grinning

So I wonder if I’m achieving

The mission I was given

Was I even given a mission to begin with

And if so what is it’s vision

Feel like I’m going through the motions

I’m told to numb my emotions

Voices in my head keep giving me notions

Demons in my bed keep giving me potions

Feel like I’m drowning in the greatest of oceans

Try to move forward

but I’m held back by all these hoarders

trying to live my life

but despite my tries

can’t rid myself of these ties

don’t know what you want from me

who you want me to be

feel like I’m living in a town called misery

maybe I should pack my bags and go back to Missouri

where I can finally make my own discovery

see you have locked me inside a world devoid of community

zip-locked all the air out and left me with hostility

stuck on the outside looking in, I lack mobility

surrounded by dungeons, demons, dragons and desolate desert

I am held back in captivity

Drowning in the quicksand that is mortality

For me death is an everyday normality

Hunger, struggle an everyday reality

Disadvantage, disappointment a constant calamity

Epileptic emotions that can’t find a mouthpiece

Paralytic limbs that can’t find an earpiece

Rested souls that are refused to be given peace

We have got to sever ourselves from this disease

These….syphilitic animals

These….acrobatic cannibals

These….stereotypical mammals

Using us as camels

To support a cause of exploitative bi-laws

That only benefit the top cats in a suit

While they tell the poor to eat beetroot

Yet refuse them land to farm they own food

But it’s all good…..keep your land while I bury this white flag in the sand

And take my future, my destiny into my own hands.

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