How mistaken,
The Road Taken!
I am no somnambulist
In fact the opposite
But there are times
What one purports
Are difficult to support.
And I keep posing
Many questions
To no other than myself
And I have to say
I hate the thoughts
I often come up with.
Why this age?
Why in a nation that is ravaged,
Into a race others for no divine reasons despise,
And the family that raised
A meagre wages to earn
For a mule’s day work?
Nonetheless, however dismayed that I am
I know who I could have become
The right road I had taken.
But mischance that I am fated
From where I stood
The road branched out
Onto muti-pronged routes.
Some were long,
Others wide
The rest smooth and squiggly in form
But I chose the one close to home.
It offered turfed ground
And in the past it had been trodden
By people related to this person
Thus it felt safe to walk on.
But the road was a mirage
From this seemingly alert mind deceptively camouflaged.
As I trudge along
Sooner than I had thought
The road came to an end
And made a gyratory turn
And brought me back
To where I began.
By Belay Ambelay