Contained
With a voice loud as a scream,
No word is ever spoken.
Energy of a youth aged,
No action is ever taken.
Ideas as cattle of a rich man,
Yet no problem ever solved.
Books contained in shelves they are.
With a smile of a newly pretty born baby,
Yet nobody has ever seen.
A house of house jokes,
Yet no kid ever laughed.
Sharp shaped gifted spade,
Use is what they have never seen.
Like unopened gifts they remain.
Burning desire burning inside
Smoke never suspected
And goals never reached.
Like a kid whom her way is lost.
With their existence overlooked
Their clothes are turned to graves
For time the container shall be buried,
Contained butter helplessly be buried with it
Copyright © Ntando Mthethwa | Year Posted 2018
|