Description
Pound for pound it hits my frame regrets choke my memory could have been a dream but it wasn't palms cupping my brows violently head pushed back against the concrete for her it was the floor for you the lamppost we struggled together I broke those fingers fought it out we thrashed you did , she did , I did light was relative for sight was stolen the hands closed upon my eyes - your eyes reaching out I could feel sinewy arms , I thumped , it groaned headlock for fear of being heard, it /she/ he never spoke I stopped moving for fear of a broken neck headlock I remembered my voice and just as I did a finger went down my throat I convulsed, you gagged I could hear you from miles away noisy neighbours we were christened our outrage muffled this government machinery will have us labelled as noise makers we the victims would not be allowed to scream our fellow citizens think us noise makers and when we should be fighting we give up for no-one wants a finger in the throat and when (your motherland, fatherland) thinks we quietened enough it leaves us moving on to the next victim knowing for sure the citizenry backs them knowing for certain no one loves a sore throat encore Thus grows the culture of silence And so do all revolutions die -Koranteng Joshua Yaw
Nameless Poem
