Umbilical Cord Poem by Tlou Romeo

Birthed into igniting flames of poverty, my fade was not much. Breast fed the scares of struggle, I was bound to speak language of ubiquitous freedom. Umbilical cord, though the parting of Bhiko's and Gandhi was known, it pained me to count ours. As I open my mouth, not only do I inhale the cries of freedom seekers, but the appealing gauge grass silently mock the imitated struggle of youth adopting to rainbow nation. I bit my tongue, trying to convey the forced language, well spoked by those who remembered the soldiers not the war. Had this been a dream, I dreamt casualties in war, thou the parting of us. I never understood the colour on my skin, but never took grunted the portrayed images in the labour room. Umbilical cord, the medium of love to vein, I relate to emotions conveyed on the faces of ones titled poor.