JOSEPH OWAGA.

    I see a lot of stretch marks indicating how much I have struggled to fit in their uniforms, I have stretched for long and I feel the pain of the limit, Tears rolling back inside, Blood shakily dancing inside, Thunder inside my stomach, Like they were born without love They say it's poetry or them, In the caves craving for attention, Conscience escapes, Poison spreads, A gangster's fire dies, Numbness befits, Heart is a spreadsheet of abuse, If they had love they wouldn't have shared toasts with ghosts. Joseph Owaga © 2023

  HOME   I long for home, a home with a father To hold my hands and show me how to love unconditionally, to make me feel secure and handle all my insecurities I long for home, a home with a mother To show me how to give and take care of a family and extend the love to others too To enlighten me on what to expect from a woman and what to offer in return I long for a home, a home with a brother Who takes after my father But have my mothers heart, To sneak around with him and carry me on his shoulders as we glare on the sun during twilight I long for a home, a home wit ha sister To keep our little secrets and talk to her about girls and how chickee they are A home is what I want, home is where I want to be, lough and smile at the adversities , to cry and lean on each other For how long will I long, Oh have become an alien  in my own land.   ©Joseph Owaga        2023