Here I am above your anticipated grave. Broken to shards, weeping for my love. There's this feud stirring up inside me, it must be this prosaic atmosphere.
You were once vigorous, and now you're dust's puppet. Your enemies received an invitation to your burial. Look at them fraternising in your presence. They share more than vindictive and trivial humour about your death. This is your doing.
Here now, you are forgotten. They make reference to your generosity in disregard. The tenacious rumors of your undying affairs mock the very sentiment I had for you. Let's not put a title on it, for it is not disgust that I feel just disillusionment.
©nkosi
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