my wall could be my blanket..
it keeps me warm through dark, silent nights..
it's comfortable presence,
thick and soft against my skin..
yet barbed wired and painted pink..
to an equally cruel world..
my wall could be clothing
shorts, t-shirts and half baked afros,
slippers and thongs..
I wear my wall,
with a badge on my chest
Shouting "my style",
"I don't care" tattooed on my arm..
My unkempt hair, un-ironed clothes stand as enormous bouncers
mean and ugly...
my wall could be speech
uncultured, broken and lacking intellect
i speak my wall
swearing, back chatting, arguing
teasing, degrading
my wall could be my words
like locusts, they come in swarms...
chewing away at my cruel worlds ears,
In my tongue,
My mother's tongue
My father's tongue,
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