My Design
On this night
a singular vow is born
No longer shall I grind my harvest...
In pain the hunger
shall abound
for atonement to cease
At once
this breeze is torn,
through words this stream is shorn
Your cheers are interned within
a peeved facade
In contrast,
I shall hide my design
until this soil dries
Copyright © Lebo Bopalamo | Year Posted 2019
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