A brother killed, fresh blood, on the streets,
Paid wages to sin death and hid the receipts,
The ink on the papers, is what my brain eats,
A youth lies in blood, don't blame the police,
Boys do not breed into men, but, into beasts,
Trying to look for peace, from between fists,
Don't be the next bad story in the papers son,
The right knowledge makes a boy a real man.
"Papers"
Drew Poetry
~Andy Mwalasha
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I was once as clean as a newly hatched chic's beak, but you turned me into hell's doormat. Misery's doorbell on pain's bunke... -
Gone are the days that you'd rest your head on my chest and smell the scent of my ripe goosebumps, those days that I would lose count o...
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An all wrapping book. Our fore-fathers named it "Life". Well, we adopted the same name and so, we also call it "Life". A...
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