Stranded in between somewhere and most definitely nowhere.
All alone in this dark filled void that’s termed as loneliness.
A loner I am no doubt, but am not an island for help I want to scream and shout.
Its that time of the day I decide to take a step in turn, eventually turn in my conscious.
Not but ones but a few times I have had a epiphany, scary is the past thought that was always overwhelming.
Feels like I have encountered an ugly soul, so demonic that my skin crawls.
Am told that love that don’t flow to the unlovable is barren in an isolated island.
A stroll down this city of refuse in search of what I call refuge.
And so it goes having fought other peoples wars, am still yet to fight my own battles.
A saviour complex is genetic to me, if they were jeans I would take them off.
A picture is worth a thousand words they say, I in turn substitute to a million questions.
Not why me as is the norm, but thanks its me as its supposed to be.
I can see the light though not in a tunnel, it brightens by the second death grinning smile it is.
Am not quitting nor will this unbeckoning shackles hold me down.
The yonder I see, as constance is the faith towards a positive change.
Am far from the end
Sir. George Githunguri
© Oct 2016