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I am not yours to FIX



There is nothing as terrible as living in a circle,
when all you want is a dark corner that you can comfortably hide and cry in
How do you live as an open book when every reader is a critic
Watching your every step and even when they don't say it
You feel it.... the judgement in the eyes as they scroll one word to the next

(a feel of what's coming in :- All that I am - Namatsi)

I am trapped in this circle;
What i really want well the heavens lied about it
So I am lost somewhere in paradise... confused
It is not as it was told...
The rivers are not clear... pure blood
The gates are not golden... iced tears
There is no music... Choir master rebelled!
And I miss everything,
Everything I once hated
Everything that I once believed in...
Even the silence between us
I miss the stench of our rotting corpses...
Even the worms crawling on top of us... I miss it all

I wish I should have listened to the voice inside... I am not yours to fix
I am not a mix that you need to solve with your tricks
Learn this… I am not yours to study or to feel sorry for
My life is not your politics, don’t pray for me or hope that I will change
Words floating to the sky don’t have a thing on me! That’s not my cage
I am not yours to worry about… so let me die in this drought
Tasteless sorry french kisses you give, what do you know about being a friend!
I stopped trying and learning how to pretend… am not good at it
Let’s be enemies, let’s kill these dark melodies
DIE! DIE! DIE!
I am not here for you to try correct
Let my pride be the end of me… because I will not listen to you
Let me live as I please, love as I want, and if the result is to burn… then let me burn
BURN! BURN! BURN!
Till the sky cries and the earth sings
Let me go to a road of finding me alone
I miss me every aspect of me! Even the drama queen who held a knife!


Mimi siwako wa kukosoa, kufunza wala kujaribu kuunda
Usikose usingizi shida zangu ukijifanya watatua
I know that I am fragile but aren’t we all… so when I break into pieces
Stay away, I have elements of the devil himself I could cut you… or worse I could kill you!
And anyway, how you gonna help me with a knife in your hand
A log in your eye? And the rejoicing smile you do when you turn away!
I see you… beneath all your eeeish… I feel you
I am not yours to fix… I am not yours to fix! And never yours to save
Poetry has always done that, don’t try compete

This voice you killed... I want it back
I am tired of this space... of the light
I am not a defined script, I make my own way in this journey heading to death,
Death, that kind cruel friend who smiles at us all and takes us to rest,
Why is she misunderstood?
I am not afraid of her...
Anyway, till trees grow downwards and waterfalls make love to the sky
In times of misty doubt and clear joys,
I am on a trip to find me... and I don't need your sympathy


© Namatsi Lukoye

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and perpetuated in the
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© Namatsi Lukoye