The sun sets for yet another day
Gloom too sets in
Yet another night will pass
Darkness in its ghostly silhouette
Will peep through the gaping cracks
Between the timber walling
Solitude will linger and whisper
Calling her by her very name, Malkia
A queen?
A clown must have named her
She concludes.
A clown like all those other clowns
Who despite being so near,
So alike her,
So her own blood
Consider her a white man’s problem
So they’ve dumped her,
Left Malkia to rot away in seclusion
Closer to her fellow waifs
After all
Orphans belong in orphanages.
