Slutty Guitarist - Poem by Katusiime Jeresi
Applauding each milestone
the drums of your expectation sound
as you haul us onto your rooftop
but not before
you listen to the sweet music
of our clinking coins.
Society, you are a slutty guitarist
who sits at the city square
waiting to be bought by paper with value
so you can strum tunes leading 'the flow'.
But you tell me....
you who heard the unchained melody of my cries,
how do I flow with 'the flow'
when 'the flow' has no idea of how to flow?
I choose the path of the different
though creative embers burn low
life is a multi coloured rainbow
and we all have different hues.
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