My muse sought a rupture
A release from pent-up emotions
And silent musing
Life
As seen from my myopic eyes
Is a flash of cycles caught within a larger circle
From dust to flesh and back to dust
Man’s action are repeated
In guises of inimitable evolutions
His good and evil now balanced
Precariously, with the evil weighing more
Kole stole a meat from the pot
His head had became a monument of cusswords
His worthlessness strangulates him
And he must achieve a prowess in something
Academics was an incandescent tong
Which had seen the fury of an angry flame
Thrusted to his chest
Too young for naught else
He sought to please his insatiable parents
With pettiness and sleight of hand
Soon enough
He became an infamous national thief
The law had a sword
That metes out its justice
But upon the flash of green
The sword morphed into an overtly friendly rose
The sword hurts those which it protects
And when the proverb:
‘live by the sword, die by the sword’
Is realised, the government and family
Mourns, blaming the world’s injustice
But the masses rejoices the departure of an unjust
Kole died a wealthy thief
Mum and Dad’s cussword was a prayer answered
He made them both miserably rich
Perhaps, it was a turn of his destiny
Kole was buried like a hero
His heavy purse saw him to the grave but no further
His departed spirit regretted the loss of a better childhood
But who else to blame but his progenitors
When one mourns, another dines
The cycles within the circle remained unbroken
Kole’s tragic childhood was a lesson spread and learnt
But a child without the academic A’s
Is naught else but a useless being that would end up being a thief
At least, Mama Kunle told him so…
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