Feeling the weight of the burden of caring breaking my strength but I keep on thriving.
Wearing their designed wings with guaranteed flawless errors to fly for the sky.
Welding promises with candle wask and elastic straps to secure flight..
Alas am transfixed on the moon oblivious to melting security rocketing me to an icurus fate.
"I am sorry is a reward they gave"

Gravitating to a swift demise from numerous heights bereft of a parachute to minimize broken bones to dying dreams

Another sad farewell sympathetically delivered as they shovel dirt to dead ambition.
While milking the attention of the spotlight with their rehearsed condolences of a hero's courageous death.
Stretching speechs to assist with the opening of wallets to fill charity buskets to their poor pockets.
Crying the loudest to provoke empathetic hugs and tissues to dry wet lies from eroding their greedy faces covered with makeup.

"Am sorry"
A chorus sung with so much repetition and empty meaning.
Sounding the gong to announce words of a promising heaven,
Yet collecting from the offering buskets belching overflowment.

Building ladders out of human heads to reach the top.
leeching on innocent ambition to fatten fragile confidence.
Compeigning relentlessly for ambassadorship to help muted talent...
Yet muting our voices by cutting our tongues to discourage complaints of transparent thieving of our hope.

Am sorry you didn't see my reasons to limp on tired feet and fight on.
Am sorry you robbed the goldmines of my hard toil to replenish your unquenchable greedy.
Am sorry you didn't comprehend the paramount importance of my struggles to give my community a dream.
Am sorry you left me bleeding out hope in a ditch without understanding it was my closest to feeling home.

Am sorry your greed took away my trust and wounded my dreams.
l am sorry I didn't tell you my success was an encourament to a community with a cemetery of dead dreams.
Irrelevant to the world but united to support an iconic talent as a shared dream.
Broken,hopeless and crippled you have numerously left me to die away in foreign ditches...

l always find my way home to be nursed with encouragement....

l am the only hope for my community to be seen.

Am sorry I gave you my dreams.
Trusting you to dust my gold and put it on the shelves not your pocket...

Only if you knew my passion was a gold mine.
lnvested into by great pure motivation from Mr Shakes and a prayful community.
Now it's my turn to give back.........




(A poem inspired by WESLEY NTSHANGASE (VIEIRA South Africa's rising star who went through pain and suffering because of Agents and friends who where there for self benefit)


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