The Death Of Kings And Queens We All Knew Poem by Sicelo Sithole

Their blood now gushes through the drought in my eyes as I knew well the history of their names
This must be the peculiar day of my life; they say it is the death of kings and queens we all knew
Their hands that wrote these lines are lost in my memory and rest in this cold ash made of my own flame
Their feet that walked this warm earth with tenderness, their innocence I sold to the world now holding my view
Their voices are now pain to my entire world waiting in denial, their shadow gathers toward the death I fed
Their hearts forever grieve; their souls seek chances now aborted, my hand is responsible for all the blood shed