UNTOLD STORIES.


Abattoir remains,
rags and tatters,
is what we do in the ghetto,
like uncultured swine,
weed for breakfast,
and maybe coke for lunch,
‘morals’ my foot,
they were left,
clogged in the pipes,
perhaps if you want it,
go and crawl in the sewers,
for it is easier to be an outcast,
than a law-abiding folk,
wherein the end,
the same fate,
heavy lunch for termites,
if you know you know,
unlike the nobles,
hard-hearted for we are,
NOTHING,
but a reason for their empire to thrive.

By Joy Kirima.

Posted by

Still learning more under the sun.

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