Pointing fingers

 

Tanea Nyika

 

No knight in shinning armour.

 

Only reputation built by rumour.

 

No longer a pleasant aroma,

 

But an odor to put one in a comma.

 

Singing daily, “Only one call away.”

 

But echoes utter, “Go away!”

 

Now dominated by pangs of guilt

 

As a sinner on Doomsday.

 

Dreamt treading on paths faraway,

 

Garnet petals, hair covered by confetti.

 

Sadly they defined me.

 

Not even the Lord can refine me.

 

My soul never to be revived.

 

Trepidation eating to the marrow.

 

Were I to awake, what’ll become of my tomorrow?

 

The road paved for me, too narrow.

 

Even when clouds do gather.

 

No prerogative granted to explain the matter.

 

Fantasies, dreams left to shutter.

 

An outcast, so they defined me.

 

I toiled, not enough.

 

Seemed weak, not enough loyalty.

 

Never enough!

 

Left plunging in an ocean of solitaire, never to be loved.

 

My freewill incarcerated.

 

Tanea Nyika is a student at First Class Academy