Rachael Chitondwe | + Follow Poet |
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Ghetto

The pain of the Ghetto
is like hot salt on my heart
Permeating into a heartburn
Its heavy on my heart
it weighs on my heart
Like a bucket of heavy bricks
I feel like im carrying a chain,
heavy pendant



Its weighing me down and i can't 
be happy
Feel like im carrying a cross
And its full of thorns
Im facing crucifixion 
And i don't know if i will rise 
in three days
Where is my tombstone
Mr Flinstone

I am gonna get stoned 
Like Stephen
Then we are even
Dark days
Dark thoughts
Empty bottle its a nuisance
Sweet liquor , swimming pool
Cloud nine 
High heaven

What up who cut the music
Am i in a graveyard
Or am i a graveyard
Sweet silence disturbance
Throw me in the furnace

Copyright © Rachael Chitondwe | Year Posted 2017

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Anne-Marie Coreggia Date: 5/19/2017 9:02:00 AM Rachael, that was a powerful write. I felt your pain, hopelessness, and anguish. I lived for a short spell in a ghetto in les minguettes, Vénissieux (in France); one day the gvt gave us a deadline to move out and then, they proceeded to blow up 10 of the towers. Amitiés Login to Reply

Doug Vinson Date: 4/4/2017 3:09:00 PM Well done, Rachael. : ) A heavy message but nicely-flowing stream of consciousness. Login to Reply

Phil Capitano Date: 3/9/2017 8:05:00 AM I feel your pain Rachael and the emotional discord, there are better days ahead. Namaste. Login to Reply Rachael Chitondwe Date: 3/10/2017 12:37:00 AM Thank you