Figment Of The Imagination
By Ananiya Mulungu 
As I drag myself through the subsequent doorA stench of urine and fresh human shit embraces my tender snout.I long for the milk of human benevolence.I totter across the room, The frosty floor stinging my crazed feetAnd torment my blameless essenceThat hankers for a fresh light windBut they have dug their heels in deep.And I have to die, to be strangled like an atrocious radicalI have to expire like a dogFor a transgression I never committed.Nonetheless, I see a hesitant hand of optimismHanging above the parole catalog where my given name hangs in the balanceBut as the door hinges squeakI glaringly convalesce from my world of infinite hope and wishesFor it was only a figment of the imagination.Could it be another figment of the imaginationAs my eyes that stick out of their socketsSee the manacles of cruelty and belligerenceUnwind gradually and serenely in my facade? Could it be just a fantasyAs my body feels the loftiness of the puny scaffold where I am stuckWith a dreadful lariat around my stripped scarred neck? How I dread to think about my closing stages, A ruthless end fit for dogs, pigs, robbers.But as a gruff voice rasps into my distorted earsTo inform me that final statement has to be said, I sigh through the hushed airWith horror and hesitationThat each conclusion is essential for human providence.Alas! The lasso tightensAnd my body is turning floppy
As I drag myself through the subsequent doorA stench of urine and fresh human shit embraces my tender snout.I long for the milk of human benevolence.I totter across the room, The frosty floor stinging my crazed feetAnd torment my blameless essenceThat hankers for a fresh light windBut they have dug their heels in deep.And I have to die, to be strangled like an atrocious radicalI have to expire like a dogFor a transgression I never committed.Nonetheless, I see a hesitant hand of optimismHanging above the parole catalog where my given name hangs in the balanceBut as the door hinges squeakI glaringly convalesce from my world of infinite hope and wishesFor it was only a figment of the imagination.Could it be another figment of the imaginationAs my eyes that stick out of their socketsSee the manacles of cruelty and belligerenceUnwind gradually and serenely in my facade? Could it be just a fantasyAs my body feels the loftiness of the puny scaffold where I am stuckWith a dreadful lariat around my stripped scarred neck? How I dread to think about my closing stages, A ruthless end fit for dogs, pigs, robbers.But as a gruff voice rasps into my distorted earsTo inform me that final statement has to be said, I sigh through the hushed airWith horror and hesitationThat each conclusion is essential for human providence.Alas! The lasso tightensAnd my body is turning floppy 
No comments:
Post a Comment