I lead in loathsome regard,
The unwelcome lullaby of mosquitoes.
I slap my face in sleep when they pause their creepy chorus to indulge in the brew of my blood.
One of my two windows has an ugly wink,
Like a one-eyed widow,
Widowed by a random stone from the heinous hands of chaos without,
Which sought forceful refuge within.
Peeping into the shattered glass I see perfect disorder,
Throughout the scattered classes, among the masses,
I twist my nose for the faint odour of order…
I might seem mute about the stench of mutiny and calamity-clad splendour.
But ah, the undying light and might: immortal candles.
These mundane innuendos,
Hint me of a fairer future,
Placing me in places where peace is in plenty;
Among the frivolous play of children,
And somewhere among the prayerful breaths of brethren.
The eerie squeaks of old hinges next door reach my ears.
Poor neighbours rush out to take jabs at power,
Powerless in their fight against masked ‘mosquitoes’,
That are dressed in death and armed with awful arms for the people.
I know that they will be taken out…
Missing in inaction.
So I keep my door shut,
And hope that tomorrow, dignity will wear a cleaner shirt.