Hope Long Lost Poem by Stanley Siyanga

I am a slave without honor, a peasant without dignity, A prisoner of my own constructs. I scorned the wisdom of the wise and jumped into the arms of adversity. Now my price is to be paid in full.

I am a slave without honor, a peasant without dignity, A prisoner of my own constructs. Heavy are the chains that bind my feet, dark is the abyss i now call home. My body remembers not, the pleasures of bathing in the neon rivers of sunlight, my ears estranged even to the faintest melodies of distant swan.

I am a slave without honour, a peasant without dignity, a prisoner of my own constructs.Regret is my only friend, despair my only council.

Ooh! , how i long for whispers of kindness long lost in the echoes of emptyness.

I am merely a shadow of my old self, a silhouette of distant greatness.

With great ponderous thought i wonder. "Am i ever to rise from the depth of my torment like a glorious phoenix from its ashes? .
Am i to forever gaze at a gainsboro grey sky with promises of a forever storm? ".

Ooh! hope. Sweet hope, how long will you elude me. How long will you punish my disbelief and pay my shortcomings with such anguish? .

I am slave without honour, a peasant without dignity, a prisoner of my own constructs