Amos Motlanthe


The tears that I cry are not yours


I am not your friend who tried
to kill you last night
I am not you friend who mustanize
and try to get intimacy
I am not your friend who killed you
your father, then came back home with a gun on my face

I am not your friend
who is your friend
then your friend
what is a friend
when you have a friend
then a friend who is my friend
when I have a friend

The tears that I cry are not yours

I have never had a friend
like my mother
I have never had a friend
like my father
I have never had a friend
like my brother
my sister, she hates me
as much as I hate her

The tears that I cry are not yours

who is she to take off
her clothes in the middle of
the street and say the door will
be closed in the next fifteen minutes round

The tears that I cry are not yours

‘she my mother, my mother who cries
every time she thinks of
me’
you are my sister
but you were my sister
when my sister was born

The tears that I cry are not yours

every time I see her
I am happy
for she knows what it means to…

‘she used to come home to me
and say poy I have something for you to eat
don’t tell anyone

The tears that I cry are not yours’

Submitted: Friday, October 02, 2009
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  • Rookie Kerry O'Connor (10/10/2009 6:10:00 AM)

    There is a lot of pain in this poem, difficult to trace the source of the distress at times: girlfriends, sisters, mothers... (Report) Reply

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