In desperation I call out
But who could possibly hear my cry
Without hope I am consumed by distrust
Yet I reach my hands above the dust
Like a village quenched by flames
I am burned down to ashes
And like a child that is derogated
My heart and mind bare the wounds afflicted
Hold tight your grasp dear soul
The fight is not over just yet
Though surviving life is a long run
Colours will shine upon the rising of the sun
Gunfire and explosions fill the night sky
Grieving cries follow with the morning
Nothing can be done, though it is not fair
And ignored is the pained in their time of despair
Children left alone to die
Young girls along with I used for pleasure
Although quiet, ignored is our silent plea
But for help, we receive no mercy
Skulls of young and old on display
A perfect reminder for all to see
The price a country had to endow
Just in hopes that they could be free
From the strong grip of foreign tyranny
Oh sweet Africa
From six years of age you ruined me
What your people did to me and all that I saw
Even when I sleep, I relive it all
But oh sweet Africa
Even despite my PTSD
You are always home to me
And though my battle is not yet won
I know a time will come sometime
When all my true colours will burn bright
Like the sun's morning light
YOU ARE READING
Amphigory
Poetry"Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings; it takes its origin from emotions recollected in tranquility." -William Wordsworth An amateur collection of my dark poetry, spoken word, and deep late-night thoughts. ***{ONG...
