‘He looked down upon me, from his throne of privilege and spat the heart wrenching word savage on my skin.
Running around, screaming visual impairment, with your eyes closed and the shroud of apartheid over you and your kin.
Screaming disability, while I lay mangled in front you,
I whose eyes you wired shut.
After the torture and mockery supposedly subsides,
when you’ve pulled out six inches of your nine-inch blade from my back,
you smirk, turn to me and say, “This is all your fault, and don’t you dare react

‘You’re not worthy of the nobility my skin brings’
even though its your skin, who even the sun wants to sting
‘or to feast with me on the flesh and blood of your elders’
Cause we’re weak with nothing, at least that’s what they tell us
because I am a laughable ‘savage’
Its written on my skin,
in the letters M-E-L-A-N-I-N

Open your eyes, and unveil the delusion
The devil named racist gleams white, not black
I’ll sing bleeding to show you, how intellectuals react.
I’ve got three eyes open, stigmata for our Alma Mater
and a book replaced a panga
cause this revolutions for education…
but that’s just for starters.’

-Shyam-Michael Sheikh



By |2018-01-11T17:33:51+00:00January 11th, 2018|Life, Lifestyle, Youth|