Dawn of Doom.

Don't you know that the more you push me down, I'm gonna be more defiant?

I'm not going to curse, and no I'm not going to break.
I'm going to rub it in right in your face that I'm not trash.
Who cares if you don't bother about my achievements?
The truth is, I'm not your little angel anymore. Yes, I'm rude and selfish, so what right?

the physical journey that i traverse

is the journey of the soul,

transport of the self from a fatherland

to a country collected by sight and mind.

the knowledge the sweats from it

is estranger's experience,

from one who had learnt to see, reflect

and choose between

the challenging actualities.

its true i have growled at my mother and

grandmother,

but only after having told them my predicament

that they have never brought to consideration

the wife that i began to love in my loneliness,

in the country that alienated me,

they enveloped in their pre-judgement.

i have not entirely returned, i know,

having been changed by time and place.

coarsed by problems

estranged by absence.

I've learnt

the ways of the rude,

to hold actuality in a new logic,

debate with hard and loud facts.

but i too

have humanity, respecting

man and life.

I am me,

I am not who you want me to be.