Every time, it’s an ear-splitting place
Everyday, its always mob
I suppose it is how the market has always been
On this way, I walk with my earpiece plugged to my ear and I can barely hear a sound from it
As the noise from the market street has covered it
One step after another, as it's too mob
for easy movement
Beggars on every corner
Holding their bowl out and crying for help
Road full of women and men advertising what they sell and calling for customers
At an end, three kids fighting, two against one
While people watch and some yell, “separate them”
What a messy market full of kids
that ought to be in class and not under
the hot sun flickering over their head
At a junction is a park of full of tricycles
Each driver roaring for passengers
Then i sight a lady roaring too
Who could she be?
Lots of mentations run through my mind
While i stand at a spot staring at her
And watch people hop in to her tricycle
No one seems to care about her gender
Why should I?
With a smile on my face I said to myself
She ain’t a blood sucker but a hustler
It's just a market street where you see
new things each passing day.
Thanks for reading
