My grey sky comes down to sit with me sometimes…
Sip tea and talk for a while, and tea I serve with my finest set of cups and pot. The smell of cinnamon sticks boiled in water with cardamom and cloves can’t hide the scent of death.
I reek of death deep inside everytime my grey sky comes down to surprise.
I have died many deaths overtime… Each time my grey sky sat across me…
I was too slow, too naive, handicapped with all her lixdeedi lixaad intact still a handicap. Then It was the bony legs, people would think I was never fed. One death.
Later on, I was fed ask the belt it gave birth to my beautiful elephant legs. Gulp butter mixed with tea, three times a day, don’t bother to vomit unless you like the whip, drink up to fatten up real quick. One death
Then it was the shock that the butter gave a preteen girl belly and horns, to confuse wild bulls always trying to jump on me. New ways to die on the inside slow like a turtle good for nothing cursed being.
The sweet tea tastes bitter in my mouth and I cover it with a wide smile all the while I find a chunk of meat either on my thigh or my right arm and pinch it hard until blood gathers around and leaves a fresh mark.
Just to numb any pain from the sharp arrows that fly out of my grey sky.
Why are you quiet Muni? ~ because should I open my mouth only death will come out.
But please go ahead and disclose to me my grey sky, the ways you know to break me down.
convosfromwithin 