Who Shall I Tell?

 Who can I tell that I'm an addict?

 Addicted to self-annihilating acts,

 That I'm torn from within, ever bleeding,

 And darkness overshadows me that no light flickers at the close of the tunnel.

 This burden is heavy for me to continually bear,

 But who will care to listen to me?

 Who will I tell that I'm an addict?

 To acts, abominable and insulting to society,

 Which defile all traditional and moral establishments,

 Which stain the culture of our fathers and mothers,

 A treason to our African values, our very ways of life.

 But who will render their unjudgmental ears to my woe?

 Who shall I tell that I'm an addict?

 When certainly society will think me cursed of the gods!

 When the Christendom will only see thousands of foul spirits in me,

 When my tradition loving father, would rather slay me than accept me,

 When even the woman who bore me, will want nothing to do with the shame of her womb.

 Who will hear me, when my own would have nothing to do with an addict?

Gerald Sikazwe