charred deep along the skins of Africa, contours of an indented tribe, a beauty marred, visage battered as a child beaten to senseless pulp!
Marks cut deep within by sour words as sharpened blades, unsterilised and stained by blood, dripping and bleeding skins of many before…
The music was very loud; as though a conquest was wrought yet a sad cry, a wild yelling, as faces and body skins were ripped, chipped off to symbolise identity…
while they grew and looked into streams at noon, reflections of the inflexions carved into their faces; a dread scared the tear filled eyes, eyes so deep and dark, now void of youth, lost in pain because in vain they stirred at phantom dreams too swiftly flown away like the phoenix myth, virgin beauties gone!
Talking  drums, percussion twists, wriggling awful introspects, distasteful retrospect, better to look forward at tomorrow in almost wishful hope of time!
Pain tattooed to hearts because culture stole their beauty, ruined  their joy and cursed their chances!
Scars so deep, hurtful; grooves on faces and body, now outlandish in a world where beauty is sightly and vain!
But let me be the voice of silent mourners; let me speak your mind, your latent regrets, let me curse the earth on which they stand…
The hands that peeled your beauties, wrecked your shine and blurred your  vision and smile, let me tell the world who care to hear, that culture and pain are foes to you…because i groan and moan in your regard…
let me speak of scars that seared your past because love is when i feel your sting,your hurts,your warmth, cure your ills and save your dreams.
Be broken in the tears locked within; spill the hurts, shed the weights and forgive our fathers because tomorrow is beautiful no matter the price!



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