THE PAIN OF SHATTERED DREAMS

Poem by: Alick Mushekwa® *THE PAIN OF SHATTERED DREAMS* My creativeness dies a premature death My innovativeness is perceived useless by the earth My cry for support to the world falls on the eyes of deaf Making model cars and driving them on the streets I ask money for school fee, but they tell me to sweat for sweet Rich people buy toy cars for their children, while we use our minds to make model cars as children To create what we see in order to lighten our parent's burden With no support my dreams die a mysterious death A rich man will never be called man rich, for he puts riches first before man With lack of hope for a better tomorrow equality is only believed to be in heaven My creativity can't be seen; with a heavy heart I feel like throwing my ideas in a dust bin Hope melts down my heart like an ice cube left in the October sun to melt thin No one believes in me; affluent people buy cars abroad When they pass they dare not stare at my car model I drive on the road, However they criticize our country of not having inventors; while they go to France and praise; When they fail to raise their own engineers! When I drive my little vehicle it gives me Joy, but then questions strike my brain; Could this be a real dream some day? I am going to find support on the way? Do rich people know me anyway? With a cool heart I forget; moving on as if broken hearted Limping in my dreams, as my legs broken My anger for underestimation smells like rotten eggs Nights of sleepless events and days of a restless search Characterises the person I have turned into The negligence of my community gives me impunity To vandalize the public property and sell to sustain my liquor consumption Blame me for not being responsible; praise yourselves for being irresponsible Money you valued; my life you devalued My dreams you underestimated My shattered dreams you remember You never give me the rains of November For me to grow my dreams; yet you want to give me a heavy down for when it is December It is too late to recover me; And now receive the waste me; Stealing I shall not stop; fighting will be on my list top Insults will be my favorite hip-hop My creativeness dies a premature death My innovativeness is perceived useless by the earth My cry for support to the world falls on the eyes of deaf Veins have lost their functions; blood flows in brain at a break artery speed My mind is overloaded with thoughts of destruction, yet they want to have me arrested My world is flooded with enemies of my dreams, and my path is congested Making an accident is the only choice of a guilty mind out of the senses Your roadblock is useless; when I came to you for a driver's license You looked at me and treated me like a nonsense However, blame yourselves for your irresponsibility cause my acts are innocent All rights reserved® ©2020 Nyasoka's production®