I told my bills to come tomorow
With poor tongues of faith,
Will i be met tomorrow?
My today is hanged on the tree of idleness.
My lungs cries of drought,
Rejecting the empty green bottles,
Should I beg the poor Lazarus for a drop
Or quench their thirst with their tears?
Beautiful buckets blabbing in tongues,
Pointing to the chastened dark sky,
Should I promise them a rain?
The way down the stream is slippery.
Should I?
Shouldnt I?
Caught in the middle,
A beef in a pie.
![A BEEF IN A PIE by Akinbode Oluwatobi Israel](https://i0.wp.com/poetry.wrr.ng/wp-content/uploads/2016/01/A-BEEF-IN-A-PIE-by-Akinbode-Oluwatobi-Israel.jpg?resize=750%2C422)