The Tiny Mole
When I was a coward without hope
I was a coward looking unto them
As I waited for my salvation
I soon became a slave of them
As I exalted to accommodation
I was a coward that never talked
A coward that bleeds but never twitched
And towards my fall I cried to the witches
For bewitching me with fear
That time I woke up only to find
This brave ego dwelling in ruins of nowhere
I was like a bull without horns to fight
So dull even rats never noticed the corn
I walked in paved routes with them
And I never found any treasure
I fall with the leaves in rags of fools
Not even man made tools could fix me
As I saw velvet roses grow beside me
Copyright © Zakhe Michael Mcunu | Year Posted 2015
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