The best thing about the past is; its past, great poetry really impressed.
I found no peace, I did not rest,
I think this space, as got me test,
I rush all day, my mind protest,
I cannot wait, I won’t distress.
Around me now, my sides all pressed,
The air compress, my lungs suppress,
I no not why, my days so stress,
I see no wrong, my want of less.
I sort no fame, about life’s game,
I shone no light, on me this night,
I walk not free, in fields of trees,
I can’t escape, this fate in cape.
I walk then run, the sun now turns,
My cage undone, my rage is gone,
I spread my arms, my wings unformed,
I seek a peep, in times of meek.
I do not claim, to be dismayed,
I twist my world, to be involved,
For want of gain, this must be main,
I call you names, my mind insane.
By Julius Fa
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