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Indigene

  • Writer: Soli Philander
    Soli Philander
  • Jun 27, 2022
  • 1 min read

There is unfortunately nothing we can do for you

A phrase this life it seems

Would owe allegiance to

Allowance made for it at birth

Identification that determines worth

Blights a childhood of charitied lack

A youth and an adulthood

Running alongside the track

As the road rises up, heading for home

An old, unexamined life ceases to, homelessly, roam


SP

 
 
 

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