Sometimes the monster rears its head
Some days I can’t get out of bed
Grey mornings and I feel the dread
But no more wishes to be dead.
There are times when I see the hole
The pit the chasm in my soul
But it has shrunk like washed-out wool
The empty ice is now just cool.
I think I’ll always feel the weight
The steepest cliff of would-be fate
But I don’t peek over the edge
My two feet are far from the ledge.
What does the election mean for the World cup?
Imani considers how the election of Trump might impact the upcoming FIFA World Cup in the US.
