I Will Die Young Poem by RONALD K SSEKAJJA

For a country denoted with anarchy
For a soul tormented and headache
For time that fry by
For the tears we cant hold and cry
I will die young

And so when its painted in the face of your loved one
When you can not spell it but its clear
When the falling dew holds your eye lids
And the birds whistle it clearly in your tormented soul
It’s clear to all you my dear
I will die young

Why then hold me so
Ever tightening like fastening screws
And so I spell it poetically
For the Son I hold and the poetry I try
I will do all I can while I can
For a part of me tell me bluntly
I will die young
From it all that gives pleasure
Looking at how things are going