The Narrator
This story is hell to tell
I have a hell of a story to tell
After I have auctioned off
my sisters to the highest bidder
and my sinful soul is deemed worthy to sell
To the seventh heaven of wonder and bliss
I am the story
Sometimes I appear frail and uncared for
With similes dancing ontop of these discordant prose of violent men and women seeking justice for these many countless, meaningless deaths
I am the metaphor that caressed a broken lyric of spirits crying for the many aborted babies that poetry could have mothered
So listen attentively
I am the ending you would have never expected
To a story you never heard from the horse's mouth
The opportunity was stolen from you
And you never got it back
These lies all around you are created so that you may be deceived
You see
I am one of the many people who kill
Rape, and molest little kids
And I am still the highest form of crime your leaders could never face in the courts
I am the truth they keep hidden
And upon being discovered, I am constantly turned into a conspiracy
And so it ends
With some random guy's head on a metal stake
With someone's child being arrested for a crime he didn't commit
With someone's grandma getting raped in the bushes
Getting left alone to ponder her shame a few minutes before taking her own life
With someone being disgusted at someone different to them in colour
The story is told, but the bold man refuses to hear it because he clings to a broken past
From which his mind shall never bring him back.
I am the narrator, and the narrative
The End.
Copyright © Raymond Letsitsa | Year Posted 2020
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