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At home the stars seem closer Because they are weighed down by the desperate
wishes of 11 year old soldiers Shacks shelter prophets read their dreams
with lit candles I saw a young girl who resembles the Greek
God Atlas Balance the fragile lives of her siblings
on her shoulders Those who caught their dreams are now being
pursued by time But to the few who have nursed their faith
Time is but an envious ghost that watches from a distance and wonders how they escaped
See, I'd offer her the sun But the father says I have but a few moons
to learn the language she smiles in There are rumours that she holds a second
sky behind her eyelids We both want to turn our backs on this place
And become fading silhouettes in the distant horizon
But the ash that is our flesh will one day meet with the dust
From the kingdoms we built to mock time I sent my suicide note to forever to let her
know that I've stopped dying It is my people who are caught in a daily
and incessant routine Where the end refuses to begin
Knowledge paints promises of power to frail fingers
The liquor drowns early memories of my late sister
The children with everything to live for are the only ones listening when these graves
whisper Death feeds the children of grave diggers
The scent of decay lingers But it fails
it fails to reach the thieves Chewing on our fathers abandoned dreams for
dinner And so a few more young girls without answers
choose To escape motherhood and bleed the prayers
in their wombs See, in the chapters of my childhood we played
hide and seek on these streets No one knew that we would soon search for
each other in hollow tombs So I scattered the remains of my innocents
The day I found the skeletons of God in the closets of their holy temples
But the God within Reaches for the child I have always been
With eternity perched at the tips of his fingers And I awaken to watch those who once were
Only ascend to join the stars that bare the weight of our wishes
I wander through the labyrinth of shacks anchored in the hope of change
And realise that this world has always built the biggest crosses
To break the backs of a people born with the heart of God
And to shatter their halos into a crown of thorns
But beneath these bridges slumbers homeless oracles
And these famished homes with their pillars crumbling
Are cradling and raising the wrath of a second coming.