Cape Town is running out of water, and the world is watching,

while the moneyed strut with eyes unseeing,

the rich bathe in mineral water, and the golf courses are gloriously green,

the poor have no such buffer,

the poor are the ones who will as always suffer,

the five-star hotels are not running dry,

while in the townships the only water you’ll find are the tears that desperate mothers cry,

this may be a sign of things to come,

when the 1% bathe freely, attempting to cleans their hands which are so greedily dirty,

and the 99% who cannot boil some food for the children,

as the kids lay dehydrated, parched and thirsty,

this is not a poem, these are angry words meant for anyone who gives a hoot,

to open their eyes and see the reality of a people, already deprived,

now subjected to the inequality of being stomped on by yet another jackboot,

yes, Cape Town is running out of water, and the taps are slowly trickling till they run dry,

while the powers-that-be argue about quotas with hypocritical indignantly loud passions,

for as always, it will be the poor who will be forced to endure even more pain,

it will be the 99% who will have to queue up, yet again,

for their meagre daily rations.