By: Nyasha Celeste Makombe Thee Poetic Raindrop
She’s no princess but a slave to the land she was born to rule
Filled with lonely nights and horrifying dreams that bleeds pain
She’s no master but a slave to pain
She was sold to slavery before she could utter a word
Raised by the cold unending lonely nights without food nor lights
All she could hold on to was the priceless light of shooting stars
She is nothing more than an work of art
She is a true reflection of everlasting pain
Made of screams that are formulated from deep within that shake the ground once emitted
Born out of love yet so unloved
You can tell by the look in those pale round eyes that are still trapped in the events of the world war
You can feel the fear of the cold of wilderness
She’s no princess she’s a young soul corrupted and misled
By the coldness of of the snow that slowly kisses her African skin
For how to love or to be loved she knows not
Bleeding from deep within tears have reached the maximum point and gone dry
She was abandoned in a garbage bin
Little did they know she was precious
Her tears paint a picture that can never be fully interpreted
For her soul is bleeding tears
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