She walks out of the room,
A room made blocks of Concrete
her world feels smaller, Like
it’s made of Concrete walls
too Caved in for her to fit
So how now?
What now?
Where now?
Without warning
Rivers of questions comes flooding in,
She rushes outside,
she step’s aside,
Out of breath,despairing
She Looks up,
the skys grows dark,
All round emptiness eats up her reality,
Rejection is all she sees,
Now she looks in the mirror,
and all there is
is a Clash for identity,
See
The Poet in me fails to drop the Pen,
i think in a way we are all Victims,
if not infected then
Affected by HIV/AIDS,
empathy should be a virtue in all of us,
let us End STIGMA,
Poet Rays?
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