Pain Poem by Moses Moreroa

When I try to remember,
It was a sore, very loud pain.
It was in December;
When it increased its speed like a train.

Doctors were awe in speed like a mad bee,
Wondering the wander of the strange yet pain sober.
I knew the pain come be;
For many years wanted thee ruminate proper.
As it is in mind we all get all started,
Unlike the heart making all to be parted.

The only medicine was leaving in peace.
For the learned solution was to leave me in a shamble piece.
A piece puzzling better than the chess of the masterminds,
Those that rule the minds.

Quoted they were, are and will be as motivation
But truth is that no motivation can change a condition, unless a petition.
But often than not, we follow petitions petitioned by doom sayers.
Who do not dare fear the fear of unknown power of prayers.