Cry my beloved son
Cry my beloved son Let them fall on thy dry skin as desert rains buss the arid land, If they continue to shed- shall they not be adjourned, Feel their warmth on thy cheeks and that shall untangle thy harden soul. Cry my beloved son Let them stream as the Victoria fall as they seek their path to the Zambezi river, If thy voice breaks out- let it make a thunderous roar as waterfalls, Let it all out – till thy voice becomes hoarse and thy lips quiver. Cry my beloved son When your eyes weep no more let thy soul lone to be free, Lie over thy back and start all over again ‘cause thy pain shall ne’er cease, Cry for thy eyes, for they shall ne'er see the need to tear again.
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Thabaknee
You may see the world thru my words. You may see yourself thru my words. But mostly you may assume my poetry is about me. If a line kicks off the edge, imagine what a poem would do.
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