To My Friend, Lynn

I have in my life some sad stories no one would love to hear, moments when my mind grapples with dilemma, fear shouting for me to give Him an ear. Courage seated there shaking his head! Oh dear. That moment when the future is shrouded with uncertainty. I mean those times when sadness seems eternal. That point in life when human misery runs, giggling in all its cruel ways. By day and by twilight, bound in destitute. I am viced between truth and ignorance. Oppressed from the day I was born. I was denied by society and Poverty nursed me. In agony, rage and fury I cry but no hears me. Poverty knows no man, righteous or wicked, a noble or plebian. Every day he has new subordinates, civilisations and economies of the world crumble to their knees before His throne. Vanity is my course of existence. When you see me soaked in marijuana smoke, just know I have tried to run away from this vicious cycle of poverty. I was not fast enough since, I was enslaved from the day I left my mother's womb. When you stare at those walls my friends and I clothed in graffiti, may you at least find the meaning between these lines.