you came upon me as the night does the day.
I am in the cubicle of a sunless day.
I am killed by your shadow;
I die every day, do I not die
Under the mercy of your hand?
Come, save me the burden of these days.
Seal my lashes with the venom of your mouth.
Shuffle me into a terrace uncertain of.
I dream, I am abstract: my feet still on temperate earth.
My dream, my executioner,
how can I be saved from the frenzy of your eye?
Written by: Olajide Michael
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson
I am a member of the WRR editorial team.