Down by the gutter he lay
Far from the City Center
Head between his arms
Only protection he has had
Tatters and rags carelessly
Clinging on this bag of bones

Clink! Clink! Clink!
Went the pieces of coins
Given by the high and mighty
Those that salvation belonged
His voice cut through air
‘Saidia masikini saidia’

They would look
With sharp piercing eyes
Like his face would stop a clock
Frowning and holding noses
This abbreviated piece of nothing
Bothered their sovereignty

This he was accustomed to
Trusting the swarm of flies
Licking the rot in his wounds
Gaining their company in return
Their humanity his consolation
This heap of agony


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