In This Wicked World. Poem by Changez Ndzai

I'm in the middle of a desert,
I'm dying of a deadly thirst,
Storms of all types strike in pit,
Sand dunes entering my kit.

The sun is burning me so hot,
I do freeze with cold at night,
I fear my feelings to get hurt,
While my tears dropping stout.

I have been forced to shout,
But there is no one near to scout,
I think I'm going to fell and faint,
My legs can't move they do bent.

I'm raising my eyes up for uplift,
I think my blood is going to clot,
My enemies are there to comment,
But I am there ready to die in a fight.