No! Why Me? by Ismail
Sometimes sit in my room asking myself,
Why am I here in this dark miserable hell?
My family is walking side by side holding hands.
While me I walk behind them sad, alone as if I was another man.
I had no one to talk to.
I had no one to share.
I sometimes imagine God speaking to me through the gales,
I’d chat to him about food, money and sometimes clothes I’d wish to wear.
If he was to busy soft winds would blow
they were the Angels sometimes they would whisper low;
My family calls me dumb, foolish and mentally sick.
Just because I rebelled against my father’s whacking stick.
I rebelled time and again
I told him no more,
I snapped and said “I hate you�.
I felt it invigorating times four
He looked at me with sadness in his eyes,
I wanted him to feel my past countless cries,
He left the room without a single word
I sat there thinking “Man is this awkward�.
He called my name “Ishmael Let’s go out�.
�To where�, I said,
"What is this all about?
He said “Come on, I will tell u something�
I followed him silently behind praying hope this night won’t sting.
Instead we were sitting in a fancy café
He insisted I try the Mocha latte
we talked and chatted for hours on end.
We weren’t friends but we understood each other
I can never forgive him for what he has done
before my hate for him was more powerful than gravity itself
now, it feels like a balloon flying in the blue, crisp cloudless sky.
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