Words, - Poem by kizza michael
stored into thy swallow mind,
stored, and let no more be said!
Vain thy society! all stands for death.
Thou thyself must break this growth.
Let this long disease seize out!
words are ills, and ills are words.
its always pain in the game!
Thou art tired: silence is equally murder.
They all hiss revisionism so....
Better men fared thus before thee;
roasted in what they can control,
with actual honesty and love.
Charge once more, then, words cannot rule for judgment
your death will be for God and not because of words
and its brotherhood.
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