Thot Poem by Wilson Tinotenda Waison

Thot



There is nothing so dearer than a death bed
Even the French man crafted the Guillotine
All I percive now are heads from the basket
Mine yet to drop in the pool, blood stained.

Tuesday, November 28, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: death
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Wilson Tinotenda Waison

Wilson Tinotenda Waison

St. Mary's clinic, Chitungwiza Harare Zimbabwe
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