Shall I Rise Poem by Wilson Tinotenda Waison

I wonder, why my fate be a toil, a distress
Brought either by circumstances in prevalence
Or merely that muddling affairs, not to impress
Ever once, yet daily brother pledge his condolence.

Even that blazing zealous impede drastically
Thoughts are of being emancipated, Yet still
The echo of their voices is never perceived loudly
And that demarcation to have stood amid still.

Straining is the odd, Brought into servitude
Whipped, lashed, and my back to bent to the
Weight of humiliation, Treated with an attitude
In the domains everyone claims to have liberated

Alas I was yoked before, Yet still I am yoked
But now without clarity. Ghettos isentropic
Mocked and shame is all mine yielding reared
Agonising. Shall I rise, conflicts still be crafted.