Found him in a pool of blood By : Dee Molefe He drowned in his own blood His blood became his sympathy comforted him until the mortuary got a missed call.. Some claimed Curtains were closed Windows were closed Doors were locked Gates were locked with fat keys But now everyone has their side of story.. A bullet went through his chest He was brutally killed Some claimed to have been blind Some claimed to have been deaf But still my disabled community has a story to tell through their teas.. He was not a monster He was not a stranger He belonged to a gang that tatooed his hands for survival He was behind bars For something he didnt commit.. His fingertips drained by his own veins Cried until his tears dried Cried until his own mother turned into the grave Cried until his own father went straight to high court and begged for full custody The son is dying.. The father is guilty.. I found him in a pool of his own blood He swam in his own red blood cells His brain smashed Everybody claimed I was not at home My body will turn Everybody will praise my own brothers death.. He was not a terrorist He was not a cruel man He lived with his second chances Scrubbed his tatoo the day his son said he wants one He was kind Fell into the trap of friends Now hes dead Now am standing at his grave With his son asking rhetorical questions With his woman holding herself not to break down Still people claimed I was not at home Yet they all have their sides of story.. *EXITS*
Posted on: Wed, 10 Sep 2014 11:41:06 +0000
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