A poem of strength

We are young people walking under this mocking sun
Working and fighting statistics
Fighting the bad mouthing that the young people do nothing other than talk
In this land where equal opportunities are utopic things
And equal rights are only good in the news, for the blind reader
Our walk is followed by the songs sang by the street sellers
The collector's shriek "Morro da Luz - Mutamba"
With background music transmitting revolutionary message
But we are no longer warriors
Not with guns at least, our enemy today is traffic
This traffic that steals out time, for leisure, love, and rest

We are also tired of this old landscape, obscured by dust
Fed up with promises proclaimed day and night
Disgusted and worn by our own path
Our dreams still live, but already infected by the cancer of time
Our tears no longer drip, were tattooed, like in the eyes of Lill Wayne
Our romance was left in traffic, we are faithful, and we still love
We have a new way of loving and our love has suffered metamorphosis
And when we talk, we sound more incongruous that this poem
We start with rhymes then end in just rampant
Because our time is short, it has been reduced by traffic
Consumed by the range and limited by digital chains, ratchets
That imprisons us in the Central Prison of Mutamba, Mind, and City
Where there are magnetic fields controlling our movements
Phones, Google, cybernetic settings, Wi-Fi, censorship and locks

But the absence of sense increases in these lines, think https://
Think of 15 minutes and the word tolerance, then BOOOM
And the poet is lost, turning the poem outburst
Questions arise and the sequence of stanzas does not conform and the writing is continuous because it's the 15 minutes of the break are over, spaces in the text are tiring the patience of the eager and the courageous who wants to get to the end of the text in order to assign some meaning to these modest lines set out by someone who could not sleep during the break and decided to give color to the observed reality. In positive summary, we are young and heroes, we are not only what the elders say we are, we are beyond the struggle, and we are strength, battle and persistence. Looking at the young Angolans am pleased to say: we are victorious; in our own ways; beyond expectations; better than the odds

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