Fallen Slave Poem by Anele Potelwa (Unpublished)

Became a slave,
to the cruel master.
and begot the frank visit,
to the evil pastor,
pasture in my case,
was in my life blocked,
that so result.
in my snow door being locked,

as a dog that serve food,
in their tables with a tale,
and honors the prosperity,
on basis of a scale,
tearing tears of a just born,
and greatly defeated from a tribe,
of a wet throne,

the elite of being the ruler,
being swaved away,
by the blowing wind,
that clear the innocent way,
lost were the proud attempts,
and life notified dead by,
the desperate alerts,
yet would have won the battle,
but when weakness strikes,
terms and temptation are perished with just a psych,

too much clever madness lead to saddness,
and the march to harness was infringed the progress,
in that even a congress failed to conquer the cumbersome stigma,
but habbits of being bullied went on to become a steamer,
the unforgotten slave,
very mistaken.