DISCONTENTS
Right in the playback of your discontents
I hear telephone music torching me
Eyes see no changes which eyes wake to see
I do feel one-third of your malcontents
I think well of pink colors of your heart
That time won’t leave you dismayed on your part.
The cubs of the tamed rebellion grow strong
To come fix right were the world got you wrong
Flaming reasons for your anxiety
Flames with faith to change a society
From the pains you remember make dark fire
For you’re so strung… like one who craves a pyre
Whose date of death keeps shifting on death row.
Strong the cubs of the tamed rebellion grow.
Copyright © 2018 'DISCONTENTS' by Simpa Omoluabi
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