By Titus Charo Kazungu

In a world so unfair, there is one I recall

Mr. Pot Belly I dare, fair and just to all

Everyone he stares, is a candidate for the ball

Be careful not to share, many to the snare fall

Oh Mr. Pot belly, you are a mix of experiences

You are sweet like jelly, it baffles my senses

Yet bitter like a pill, my mouth screams

Overwhelmed at the till, buying food and creams

I cannot believe, my villagers celebrate you

They want to live, with you as a cue

Of cars their elites drive, riches, wealth they brew

How do you thrive? many have no clue

Why do you ridicule me, oh urban folks

Like a bad boy I watched him, I hated all the talks

Out of control he may seem, joy, health he blocks

A future without him I dream, by running the tracks

Why are there silent scenes, speak to me I pray

Is it my father’s genes? there is nothing to slay

Or the plates I cleanse? moderation may play

Docile lifestyle I please, I have hardened like clay

It’s not what you eat; it’s how you eat it

There is no marathon to beat; you only need to

keep fit

Exercise in cold or heat, consistency may befit

No more will I greet, the road you must hit

I have lived with you for years, my health you have

robbed

With much pain and tears, I grumbled and sobbed

Slowly as my conscience clears, I refuse to be

grouped

With men and women who bears, the mark of the

trapped