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By Ahmed Mohammed Patigi (P.T.G✍️)


I might be just a wanderer all along
Raking the street like I have no one
For I was unlucky with my hallowed doors
It was a passage I had no power to lock
Maybe I might’ve preferred being carved from a rock

Just like you, though, different from you
I have: mouth, but my praise songs lack sincerity,
Ears that could always cry for lullaby
Eyes but has no time to see nature’s beauty
And stomach that had long befriended hunger

It’s not my fault for seeking knowledge
For I also wish to be the doctor, lawyer at an edge
On the other, an owner of a well designed lodge
So, I wonder when my dream will become a reality
For I’m but garbage and junk that liters the city

I beg for chops to satiate my hunger
and move door to door to seek for leftovers
See me not with pity but with love and kindness
For I didn’t choose to be a recipient of charity
Or a deity whose entitlement could only be offerings

Blame not only: my source for their failure to abort me
of suffering, me for my inevitable rallies
thy government for I might be a heavy burden,
Or God who had birthed me into the scene,
Blame thyself too for calling me what you deemed

Since it’s a struggle you cannot survive
If you see me, I hope you at least ask for my name

P.T.G ✍️


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