I see, hear but my lips hardly move.
I’m dump, the world has concluded so.
My heart sarcastically let out a loud laughter upon learning the views of the popularise on me.
My heart n encephalon is constantly at loggerheads.
My mind tells me to raise my voice and prove the world wrong. “Don’t get yourself humiliated”, it cries out loud for me to hear.
Its querolous because I’m always paying heed to the heart.
I must be practical it suggests.
The heart on the other hand completely disagrees with the mind.
The matter has become a controversial issue.
According to the heart, itβs not about who’s right or wrong, the world or I.
There are a million ways of talking besides using the toungue which may one day kill someone.
As always I found myself listening to the heart.
Eventually the encephalon has to turn tail.
I was born to express a word in a 100 ways.
Appreciating the invention of ink and paper became my daily bread.
I’m a warrior without armour.
A saviour to the depressed ones.
A voice to the suppressed ones, but all this I am through pen and paper.
I comfort people with my poems.
My words glue straight into their minds.
An aunthentic smile is left on their faces just upon reading my minds.
It saves deep more than prescribed medicine would.
I don’t have to cry my lungs out for me to be heard.
Let the world think Iβm dumb, I none the less care.
All I know is I’m a light that prevails in darkness.
I’m a poet forever more!
By Tafadzwa Mutandakamwe from Zimbabwe
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