Klaren Madaka Poems

It is what it is;
It is not bad luck but a disease;
It took my pride, and it doesn't put your heart at ease;
Families have been broken though they had been modern.
...

You were never invited to our house;
You just budged in to cause havoc!
Sometimes I wonder who gave birth to you.....
Last time you were in our neighbors house and like always you brought pain with you.
...

Like a demon creeping from the bowels of hell,
Sent by the devious devil, drugs are here to destroy our youth.....the fatherhood of tomorrow.
With nothing but disastrous implications it crawls and devours all the hope we had left on our tomorrow.
The baby-like cries in the streets have ceased and have been replaced by the 'manly' cries for 'more'
...

In the wake of war, suffering is everywhere. Orphans cry, widows mourn, and widowers struggle to find hope.Little faces stare, hollow and sad. Their eyes filled with fear, their hearts filled with dread. The future looks bleak, with no parents to guide. An orphan's life is filled with pain and sorrow inside.With no parents to love and no home to call their own. The orphans wander through the streets, feeling lost and alone. They search for a place to belong, a place to call their own. But all they find is cold and hunger, as the days go on and on. Their hearts ache for a family, for someone to call their own. But as the days go by, they learn to be strong, and to stand on their own.
...

She didn't walk away.
Not at first.
She just... stopped showing up with her soul.
Her body stayed.
...