Words fall to this page like leafs off a tree.
Still ask myself,
"What comes with being a born-free?"
Is it a past we never had to see?
Or
Is it the present thats as bitter as salt from the sea?
Blessed be the ones that live without pessimism, The glass is half full type, While someone is whispering 'don't cry over spilt milk' as I convince myself that there wasn't any water to begin with, Excuse the God complex, I was told to believe that I was made in her image, so excuse my self love and don't take it as self louth, Let us not exist in the spiritual but Let us us sing our songs and Let us write our letters hoping that these thumbed sucked addresses become real and replies become consistency till my broken rib is replaced. By: | Mfezeko Booi |
Love is not always on time but when it arrives, who can deny it? When it's in sight, who can hide it? When its lost, i pray cupid helps me find it. But why do we define such? Why do I call it "love" when it gives me so many other emotions? When im jealous, it plants hate, unease and anger inside of me Yes, a devilish act this love bestows upon me But if we genuine and honest, this love could fill up oceans Then we'll pack our hearts into suitcases and sail East, towards Cape shores, And continue our quest for soul searching. Because the absence of love is like a mannequin dressed for winter, staring at the world through windows of a clothing store, warm on the outside but always cold when you look at the eyes, the inside. So please dont turn me into a mannequin. Because where there's no love, warmth never visits. And when love comes knocking, i dont want to go looking for the nearest exit Running away from the best...
I walked out the house and felt out of place. Looked up and saw cracks in the sky, And what we call space, Was just that, an empty space. Thats when shock struck my face. Riddle me this, what is life if we treat it like a race, Then leave the earth with no trace? Imagine the unimaginable; Losing sight of your tangibles, Human race turning into vegetables, And seeing the same events that you once read from The Crucible . I walked out the house thinking ill make it back, But along the way my life got jacked, Does this fit as a stolen moment? Or was it a failed attempt at facing my opponent? Either way, im glad its all fiction. Just words and diction. One's mind shouldnt be a prison but a prism, So light can shine through you, And be bright enough to seperate the bad from good. By: Nceba Thabethe
Comments
Post a Comment