A plea
A whine loud enough to break windows and attack clots of loss
Deception embedded in my imperfections
Neglection throned at my door
A knock silenced by thorns
Set free the spirit that shall guide greatness
The ghost that is worshipped by stone cold reapers, who unfortunately fall at the Devil’s feet
Set free the voices in my head
That lives to torment the child
Cold, lost, neglected by breeders
And now belittled by leaders of fate
Who now shamelessly bow to our cries
And wipe smiles from tears drained from our hearts
Set me free
A plea that barely escapes my lips
Before evil drifts in and consumes my crown.
This was written by our contributing writer, Siwaphiwe Matha.
Image Source: Pexels, Branden Stephenson
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