To you FUNDZA,
I let its ink cartridge bleed the message
I hope when he delivers this piece
You receive at your earliest convenience.
I hope each word will send you to the full stop.
Each comma send you to the next word
Each sentence send you to the next line
As my creative abilities wriggles to break out of misery,
For the hype of the nearest stanza.
To you FUNDZA,
I send on my behalf the tortured pen
I hope when he delivers this piece
You respond with intrinsic relief, ASAP.
Find value of cult in my cryptic pen,
For I am the hand of its Journey Ahead.
For I am the first witness of its potential excellence.
For I am the singer of its verbal contents.
To you my dearest FUNDZA,
I send the ink narrative of ERRAND BOY
I hope when he delivers
You clasp on the plot of its main content.
Meet the Wrecked Artist behind the scripts,
The Black Widower on renegades of infinite grief,
The Caged Eagle embracing anxietal combats,
The Underdog on impossible warfares,
Bad Samaritans attached to see red
While Ap vibes along theTough One.
Dear FUNDZA,
I let my pen to display this to your eyes
I hope you receive this lifelong litany
Earlier than falsetto.
Hear the song narrating listless literature,
Let its soft-touch to where no lyrics went before.
The black blood of this go-getter is fairly-equipped,
To liberate its agony out of idiocy.
Open the forbidden doors,
Liaise, take liberty from its PG-exclusive trials.