There was a young man I knew from my ghetto
With faded memories, I see him stroll through our dark streets unfazed
To him it seemed the sun would shine through the dark of his innocence always
Our streets were for the astute survivors; he seemed not to care
In high seas of life, tomorrow was never mystical to him
Where enemies lurked in the dark shadows of the purity of fame
Sneaky gun totting spooks prowling from behind the cold human walls
Now he was running; no gun no protection
A fugitive from morality and conscience
Made a wrong love turn which left him all alone, crying bitterly
Now he is all memories; fame cannot shield him from shame
I met him, in loneliness, trudging through memories of what he could have been
All alone through the rhapsodies of a life unreal
Sad that he now blames everyone for is naivety!
PHILLIP NINE MAFUNGA
23 May 2020
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