Ofentse Mercy Hajane
Mayhem her eyes plays
A day before she lost it all
Playing poker with the devil was not a good idea after all
Cries of her child she never held in her arms,
haunted her cold lonely nights.
Boxes that blanketed her seem to comfort those who pass her by
With a begging soul,
she would hold out her hands
Praying out for anything to fill her empty stomach
No amount of pity
No amount of money
could unsane her.
She would watch Gods pass her with no glance
Those who did throw their eyes at her,
would be revolted by what they see
Some would want to fall and weep.
She remembered how she would once
look upon those unfortunate.
Millions in her banks
Thousands in her purse
But not a cent she would give.
Living in a stately home
Fancing stately clothes
Forgetting that behind dark curtains,
dwells those who hold a bread crum holier than God
Yes... She was a woman of class
Village and famer boys were her floor wipers
Worse was a street dweller.
Unimaginable pain she did inflict on others to acquire power
With less care she would smile
and show her fangs like a snake's fangs
Difference was that,
hers were shimmering of gold.
Her roof was heaven on earth for us unfortunate ones
Her branded shoes would only touch the red carpet,
made of blood of those who struggled to please he malicious class
My father once worked for her
He once stole a piece of a T-bone steak to feed his family.
He was never spoken of
Let alone be seen ever again
She was mightier than the might
She was all that one would wish to have...
... But that was lost in an instant...
Foolishly and greedily
She fell back into the hands of nature and destiny
The mercy of the horrid world would choose what to do with her.
And here we are.
Fallen from grace,
Holding out her hands
Begging for a speck of life
Unfamiliar with face that once praised her.
Holding her hands
I took out my last Rand,
I saved for rainy days
Gave it to her.
With no pity
With no anger
No despise or dispute
But a Faded Emotion.
By: Ofentse M Hajane
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