Ghosted
tears and anxiety replace the dopamine rush
I cry in silence and my fingers twitch to text "Why"?
But instead, I will cry these tears and dry these tears
and smile tomorrow because this too shall pass.
The Visitor
Oh you pale skinned, thin lipped one With the covetous eyes Century after century you stride Across nations leaving trails of blood and gore The Congolese paid for your visit with the fractured arms of men, women and children, Africans visited your abode like cattle, sold of and branded You took off one mask and wore another Self proclaimed superior who survived from the teat of Africa and the backs of her children You led and segregated Stole the lands and looked down your noses as Africa broke and grew, grew and died, died and knew, knew and now fight, You steely eyed thieves, dripping with lies, Providing the guns and bullets to brothers who fight and die for you the ghoul to steal their carcasses. Your visit is the visit of the dead
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