Ananiya Alick Ponje
Figment Of The Imagination - Poem by Ananiya Alick Ponje
As I drag myself through the subsequent door
A stench of urine and fresh human shit embraces my tender snout.
I long for the milk of human benevolence.
I totter across the room,
The frosty floor stinging my crazed feet
And torment my blameless essence
That hankers for a fresh light wind
But they have dug their heels in deep.
And I have to die, to be strangled like an atrocious radical
I have to expire like a dog
For a transgression I never committed.
Nonetheless, I see a hesitant hand of optimism
Hanging above the parole catalog where my given name hangs in the balance
But as the door hinges squeak
I glaringly convalesce from my world of infinite hope and wishes
For it was only a figment of the imagination.
Could it be another figment of the imagination
As my eyes that stick out of their sockets
See the manacles of cruelty and belligerence
Unwind gradually and serenely in my facade?
Could it be just a fantasy
As my body feels the loftiness of the puny scaffold where I am stuck
With a dreadful lariat around my stripped scarred neck?
How I dread to think about my closing stages,
A ruthless end fit for dogs, pigs, robbers.
But as a gruff voice rasps into my distorted ears
To inform me that final statement has to be said,
I sigh through the hushed air
With horror and hesitation
That each conclusion is essential for human providence.
Alas! The lasso tightens
And my body is turning floppy
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