Co-Pilot

I sometimes feel like a co-pilot in my own thoughts.

Floating in mid-air, 

Letting them take me on different trips.

No handle bars to hold on to,

So I always have no grip.

When drowning in this pool of thought,

I swore I would never take a dip.

But,

Here I am clinching tighter to my heart and

Hoping to dear life that I never slip.

Slip into a place where I lose control of my thoughts.

Becoming practically incapable of making a choice.

Then watch my conscience lose it's voice.

I don't think there's a sadder sight than 

A wise man trapped in a confide space with no way to escape.

When I walk in these city streets.

I'm always harshly reminded that having a bed is a luxury,

That these shoes could have been on someone else's feet.

Then,

I sit and wonder what good comes out of the lives I see living on these Pretoria streets.

Did they just accept defeat?

Or,

Did they go where ever the wind took them like stems of wheat.

By: | Nceba Thabethe |