Carved on his wall are dreams and aspirations.
Thoughts of success and willingness to be free seem to be his plight. 
songs of promise are heard from his heart with his hear 
beating to the same rhythm .
he in melody allures  growing  fields of success.
They then too fall into his deep charms of deceit.

He promises silk and wine, tell you
You could never want more. 
Before you he lays cashmere robes, scented with jasmine.
He compares you to pearls of great prices. 
Yet all this fades as you are trapped in his jungle.

© Simphiwe Phukwane 

day 5 | 19 July 2011

short bio: 26 year old , grew up in Soweto. I had to take on the role of a parent at a young age asI headed a house hold. living with 2 nieces, a nephew and younger brother. Writing has always been an escape for all I would rather have gone through. Journalism student, love arts and fashion. I was born to write.  " we are all born to be what no other can be and do what no other can do" my motto.