Dispirited; he was
Fragments of his hopes
Sliced his wrecked soul.
Foul; now his middle name,
His life
Never been pellucid.
Pearls scattered,
Once his beam of hope.
The milky gown, more misery.
His only moissanite; no more
Bleak future; Now less a man.
His only rib, no more.
The yacht, a to-do list
For his only moissanite.
But, tomorrow never arrived.
Read – Beyond the Hills – A Poem by Patricia Peace Ejang, Uganda
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