Rose petals


No one will ever be able to understand a love affair like mine, this love tramples over every kind, even though you will never understand this love, it was the only love that we grew accustomed to. But wait it was beautiful…you see broken homes and gunshot wounds in the reflection of every tear. Cries that sounded like sopranos along side playing a violin with missing strings and a tree branch, I can still hear the choir performed by all those who got left behind, feel the bass of those who ran through dead, hear the symphonies cause by the sounds of shattered memories.

If you are really quiet you can still hear the treble clef of a tired woman who won’t stop walking while holding her only living child. It was the best orchestra ever heard, our home being beaten to the muses that sang in the wind.

This love gave crimson rose pedals that flowed from their flesh, bullets that would kiss our skin, while churches are being burned to the ground, call that starting a new flame.- its clear that we made Valentine’s day seem mediocre-
It was sad how it became a thing of you have to hide!
To ensure any of your rights!
Don’t waste your time saving souls or being kind!
You have to eventually pick a side!
When desperation kicks in there is no time!
Then you are paralysed to decide!
Who Lives stay or get left behind!
I guess I now understand why it was called a genocide!

People spread out surrounding home.


We were boarding a country once called home, call us the human fences.
Sense of security was crippled by the broken limbs of society. We were praying for a land the world might have never known existed. Our oxygen became so stale we began to question our creator and his purpose.
Disappointment stitched our lips shut while and circumstance tied our knees to the ground.
Can’t you feel this love, people loved a land so much that they believed that they should be the only ones to claim it.
Yes a selfish kind of love. This was the aftermath of love. A love that nailed death to your chest.
Dear world we are are sorry, I apologize for wasting your time by obligating you to help us, we didn’t mean to be heard everyday. Invisibility out grew our bodies, and we could no longer fit in out own silence.

We lived in mother Africa’s womb and she decided to have an abortion to get rid of a country that is small enough to fit in the palm of your hand.
We have tears strapped to our shoulders, bruises on our knees and blood from battered feet.
God lost the ultimate tug of war to Satan.
Torn by war.
Worn by being torn.
War torn.
They loved us in all the wrong ways.

Flow Masengesho.

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