La vida loca

The part of the world we live in today
burns daylight faster in our furnished dungeon,
forcing us into a promnesia of starvation
where sunrise breathes from a stranded hole of our wall.

Hunger became our greedy motivation to stay alive,
so as to await the promised angel that grants wishes;
we wrestle with skinned hounds for survival
by feasting on their sweet scraps.

A blinding light shone; our angel arrived in an epiphany,
Darkness bowed, the maidens took a photograph,
We lads held to God’s own autograph
which will serve an identity of our freedom.

Despite being immuned to darkness,
There is a kid still filled with sadness
who doesn’t want an autograph,
But he was given bread, he broke it in half,
One for the angel, one for himself,
He only ask if his life can be so bright
and colourful just like the birth of a sunrise.

© Simeon Ajayi (THE INKMAN)