I have travelled every path of the road,
every corner of the street,
my meandering ways, sun burning,
winds blowing,
rain falling,
until my skin get acquainted with those conditions.
I curse this vibrating
shaking and vibing African soil
that obliges me to take its narrow
filthy paths
leaving me moulting
dying of shedding
and ultimately leaving
me wandering
After that I only possess vague sight
and languid motion
These giants think I’m not tall
I just crawl
fall, that’s all
I can do
It’s my innate proclivity to spit
yank you off the tree
while enjoying your lush and luscious fruits
I have endured
all the pain and agony
that this filthy
world has carried for me
I am tired
I don’t owe you anything –
let me live in my own world
Now can I
rest in peace?