An Ode

This one’s for all those who see more than they should, and all those who hear more than their hearts can bear.

For the heart pulpitations, for those cloaked in fear.

For those who cannot remember, for those who always forget.

For those roughed up, locked up, drugged up.

For the ostricised, for the guilty.

For the personifications of irony.

For the young, for the old.

for the ones who always run, run away.

For the fathers, mothers, uncles and aunts.

For the food lovers, worrisomes, gifted, the psycho-analysed, those in the firing line.

This ones for all those who’ve seen more than they whould’ve, and all those who’ve heard more than their hearts could ever bear, but they still with us.

Still macking

Present.

Ever trying.

An ode to you.

Salute!

 

 

o_survivors

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This entry was posted in Africa.

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