I am sorry. . .

I am sorry for the cold whimpers of Jos,
The one that blows you from ear to fuss.
I am sorry, sometimes we caged you and cuss
We let hunger lingered so you know we are the boss.
I am sorry for all those festivities,
Where we served you cold ice creams
Or came up with ways for you to escape our imaginations.
I am sorry we became too human for your liking
Offered no food sometimes, no grass for you to feel healthy
If you was suppose to be king
We didn’t know how to choose  your meals from your subjects
We misused English for Economics (little goats for food).
I am sorry, you had to live this long
And the pages of history has this to scribble.
I am sorry we took your pictures
When you were out of mood we were in selfies (selfish)
But you was always part of a 25th December, 1st January, Sallah or a birthday.
You practically was one of us.
I’m sorry you knew too much about us,
Explains why.
I am sorry for the heartbreaking news of your Queen.
We never even cared at all.
I am sorry we already had guns
Our nature knows how to kill than love, but we will soon Change.
I am sorry we saw tranquilizers only in movies.
We didn’t know we had to buy one.
I am sorry you had to find a way out somehow,
I guess you were on your way to see Santa
And ask him about the gifts of the previous years.
Or is it the Malaria, I hear their mosquitoes are not different from ostriches.
Or is it probably to celebrate Christmas?
I am sorry if you thought you were always living alone
Because now not even in death were you ever hated but exceptionally loved.
Maybe except the bullets that put you out.
I am sorry you was a Mufasa
But Scar didn’t get involved in this, he wasn’t behind the gun
There was a trigger and the bullets.
We mistook them for tranquilizers and now you’re asleep.
I am sorry if this tribute is late.
We didn’t wield this in our minds, not this fate
I can’t really fathom you’re gone.
Or really believe your story is done.
I am really sorry your soul is lost in the cold whimpers of Jos,
The one that blows caution to tranquilize our fuss.
I am sorry, sometimes your cage will no longer hold a curse.
We will never find another you, not another boss.
You’re now free to live in death.

#JosMufasa lives on 1972-2015



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