Whose Slave Am I
Let me review my life, of the many falls
The thinking gets deeper, asking who faults
Sooner is not later of how I impress life
Darkness always argued over life strife
Love cannot sustain the pallor of clamor
Only silent words in a mouth of glamour
Bliss of surrendering and rest in my grave
It may be well to die and cease to be a slave
I trade my body for a plate of food
Difficult hour, alone and seclude
Yet I am still a man with blow if just loosen
Dirty face, weary body with fractured bone
Rain cannot wash the mock that defaced my well-being
Neither do I can think of revealing my freeing
There is no roof against my oppression
Only white cloud that looms overhead has the guilt impression
Now my heart is sore afraid of beating
My smile was captured along with sympathy’s calling
No chance to see the light only heaven will allow
My life succumbed gently into heavens aglow
July 19, 2015
Copyright © Noel Villarosa | Year Posted 2015
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