Nappy Nubian Poet

No one wants to listen.

No one is trying to hear.

Everyone wants to talk and be heard.

But you won't get that here.

Stop and listen.

Try to hear.

'Cos after a while that voice might just disappear.

Reduced to a low grumble.

Then a whisper.

Then nothing at all.

A solid entity pushed into a corner, crushed to dust under the pressure.

Left to crumble in that corner. Only remembered when its time to be swept away.

One day, the sweeping will cause the dust to rise, make its way.

Clouding your vision.

Invading your mouth and nostrils.

Until it clouds up in your lungs and throughout your system.

Don't you let it decay you from the inside out.

Don't you let it engulf you.