It feels...

Loneliness makes us suffer, it's a click, when the machine is loading high on a buffer It's looking softer but on the edge getting tougher Nobody loves you except when selling to you, everything is on offer and it feels like dealing with dangerous minds on a daily basis here in our small village, that was once reigned by a sense of benevolent well-being, where life runs on its own dynamic market based set of rules that is not evident to those who lead their life living someone else's life. Cough cough, retribution is not contribution. The democracy, through the unspoken language, feels like my mother, devastated. Africa