After every mistake and punishment we feel down
We watch the culprits celebrating at our expenses
After taking our belongings and left us ripped off
We look back then smile a bit and ahead then see no future
Our pores and veins are conquered by the pains
Alone we wake up at night and note down as victims.
Every morning we wake up and look around as if what had happened was a nightmare
Tell ourselves that things will come right again
Memories are confusing us as to what is left for us to live for
Nations look at us with sympathy knowing that we’re homeless
The harder stepping stone is to look forward forgetting the past
Every morning it feels as if something is missing again.
The wound seems too deep to be healed
Embracing the devil is worthless but is a curse tray
The feeling of sense inferiority is ruling our lives after the painful era
Tears just crosses our faces every time they like
By looking around we realise that almost the whole Africa is being ripped off as us
The only common thing is that we keep every incident noted down in writing.
A homeless guy came by the name NEVER GIVE UP!!
Our neighbours had forgotten to tell us how complex are the consequences
We realise that is the only way to keep our nation going on after we’re gone
Writers and poets as ASAVELA PEKO reminds us that art is an easy and flexible platform to distress
Somewhere somehow we gather all our experiences and let ASAVELA tell the story
At the end of it all only victims who write history…