My limits rise as I turn older,
A lot of doors get locked for dead.
Unarmed my hands are – no key-holder,
I've lost the keys to march ahead.
I'm fighting hard... my efforts vanish...
My strength is dropping fast away,
The path is choked up with rubbish
To overcome which not I may.
I can not get beyond my limits...
Each fitting time I try to get
I find a way nailed up with rivets
That leave me nothing but regret.
I dash my fists against the veil,
Still all's in vain – my soldiers fail.
A. Molebso