Obligational Game
Each day we trode on the carcas of this reminant world in a bid to hold our lives
Each night we stare at the moon as we memorise our next strives
We have made a million cuts through the soul of the wind just to survive each moment
We have sold our shame and fear to lousy treatment
What is our reward?
When we had never glance forward
What is our position?
When we had never had an option
We will never know our name
In this obligational game
poem by Kemurl Fofanah
Added by Poetry Lover
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