Sober Alcoholics: (House Arrest)

There’s a roof on my head,
Others sleep outside.
There’s food on my plate.
Others abanawo namanzi.

There is no room to whine,
Be grateful all the time.
If you do not embrace this,
There are people waiting in line

Because of what we posses now, we find ourselves subjected not to find fault in anything.
So we choose to close our house doors and pretend everything is fine.
And we ignore the immediate struggle and choose to assist in a secondary one.
Then the internal fight intensifies until it blows up everyone.

Sometimes you can be a prisoner in your house with no escape plan.
The fight is just for survival, just to see another day.
This is what we wish to see go.
Because a house is suppose to be what we call home.

We yearn for a place where we can be listened to,
Where we feel safe with everyone we are speaking to.
The truth is we never wanted to stay indoors.
The plan was just to know we always have a place to run to when it gets bad.

WE ARE THE GELTONNATION