The Social Media
In the basement kitchen cold cement floor no hot water
a towel hung on a nail, wash you face a corner each and your hands
to dry, after a loo visit it also gave us tuberculosis
bad skin, and rashes. But we were lucky there was no social
media, kind ladies to do good, take a picture of misery and feel like they
as they had done something helpful pressing coins into our hands.
Bloody people their finery was an offence to those who had nothing
like giving a Bible to one who cannot read; the hope is that they got
head lice because we could not give them the crabs.
A war was over for us it was just the beginning of a deliberate rise to
self -respect the Social Media was not interested in this the butterflies
of self- aggrandisement
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem