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Every day it's a hustle just to make it through,
Every day there's a bustle... doing what you got to.
You try to make something out of the nothing that you have,
It seems that every try you give - life cuts it in halve.
You sit and wonder when; you sit and wonder how,
How you're going to make it there where you don’t have to bow.
There where you're free and your hands ain’t tied with chains,
There where everyone agrees that things must change.
Dear life why are you keeping me from greatness?
I aim for the stars but your strong winds make me miss.
Are all of my tries always going to be futile?
Don’t you hear my cries while I'm sitting in exile?
I want to be in a place where there's just peace and love,
So I go on facing these days praying to the Man above.
I'm hard... I've made it through more than most have done,
I've come far, I aim to be the fighter who won.
But I ain’t a terrorist; I only fight for my freedom,
And with these bare fists I oppose unjustified kingdoms.
And I aim to go higher as an unwavering conqueror,
Just like the fighters who fought for the freedom of Namibia.
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Writer Profile
Playshis (aka Plattious the poet)
I'm Ryno Julio Platt. On the Spoken Word stage I'm known as Playshis. I write about life.
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