Tuesday, 8 December 2015

The Curse Of The Giver.

Colour me the wind,
Let me be felt on your succulent skin.
The dawn of the full moon,
I cry out to you like a she-wolf,
Somewhere in the closet of my heart.

The season of my youth,
Surely feels the hardest,
But with guidance definitely going to be easy.

The people of my people,
Exceeds not the people's people.
Like an eagle,
Take flight, with my 20/20 vision see the world.
In my grasp is what is needed by my people, the people and I.

The curse of the giver,
It's about the ability to reach in,
In other to reach out.
I follow the blueprint of my Grandmother.
And like I was told,
Kill the boy, to groom the Man,
Hoping someday my dreams rescues me,
As I don't become a stranger to my dreams.

My purpose on earth has now become my curse.
This is The Curse Of The Giver.