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 Apr 2014 Zanele Tlali
Manqoba
Caught up in a generation,
Where our strengths are attached to our egos
Caught up in a generation,
Where our insecurities are hidden behind the weaknesses of our hearts
Broken promises creates cuts in our memories,
And their scars are a reminder of who we no longer trust.

We run our mouths longer than we train our brains,
So we quickly get tired of our own thoughts
And the only source of hydration we seek is the validation of others.

Our tears are a reflection of how strong we wish we could be
We are haunted by our past,
And killed by our future
The present moment is the only time we are free.

Encouraged to be ourselves
Yet we are judged for being ourselves
Silenced into individuality,
Yet we scream for each other’s help.


Adolescents are rushed into growing up
And yet they fear growing old
We demand kindness and warmth
Yet our actions towards the ones who love us are cold.
I'm softly holding on to nothing.
But that's ok cause because I don't want everyone to see; see beyond my anything but normal self. Because I'm oh so crazy and wild, and at heart I'm still just a child.
One
The world around me slows to a crawl,
No one around me knows me at all.
I look over the crowd of familiar faces,
From various times and different places.
They laugh and they play, one and another,
All with secret pains, I’m just like the others.
Lie to me.
Tell me that I am everything I never was.
Tell me that I am beautiful and watch me tremble and shake.
Look into my eyes and lie to my face, will you?

Why did I build my home on such
an unsteady foundation
of lies and insecurity?
Time and time again,
I swallow my grief
just to blink back tears and brush the truth away.
Stay where you are and do not come near.
Don't cause a land slide that will surely destroy me.
I will be crushed under the weight of so many lies
weakly supported by kind intentions.

Hide the truth for me if you love me truly.
Cover my eyes and whisper into my ears: you are beautiful.
Protect me with your lies.
Untitled poems are always the best
Because poetry can't be labeled.
To me it's a miracle
The way a poet can convey emotions using words.
Some are better than others
But no one can identify
Every emotion they've ever experienced.
And if someone says they are able to
Then that someone is lying.
But that's a whole other ball game.


**Untitled poems are the best
I feel empty
Completely emotionless
And it's awful.

All I know is that I want something
To fill me up
But I don't know what that something is
This blankness within confuses me
It's bewitching and perplexing at the same time.
My story is tragic
As the pen spills it's magic
Unraveling like fabric
On my over worn
Under kept jeans
From my teens
Busted seams
Like broken dreams
I am my jeans
Out dated and out of style
Haven't been patched
In quite a while
There's a hole in my pocket
Like the one in my heart
These jeans
They are me
& Their falling apart
My life is like a spiders web
Strand for strand intertwined
An ordered chaos built each day
From my soul this web is lined

Twisted and tangled in a mess
Full of insects which upon I feast
These are the bad memories that I have
Deep inside I conceal the beast

Because of those moonlit nights
My web shimmers like a lake
These are the good times that shine
Those memories shall never break

Some strands of my web
Are sticky and gross
But all in all they stand strong
Because this is just how life goes

A web of unimaginable entanglement
Strand for strand intertwined
An ordered chaos built through time
This web my soul has lined
Her smile is my sun.
A sense of what is to come.
She brightens my day,
as air fills my lungs.
She is my everything.
She is my life.
I pray to God,
someday she'll be my wife.
© All Rights Reserved Dustin Matthews
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