“Whoever gave this child a sword?”
But to their Philistine unbelief I swore:
The Almighty is the careless one
That jeweled with gold this swine’s snout
He has his ways apart from ours
I am an ill mannered pen
Borne of the slums of self experience
Not of a bland four-walled web
I know nothing of couplets and sonnets
Nothing of meters and blank verse
What I know is a bleeding heart
And a world likes a house of cards
All I have is a pen to save the world
And a word to move the pawns
So when I write, I paint
When I rhyme I come to change
When I rebel, I come to launder the taint
So let my last breath a rhyme be
And my last words a poem bring.
Written by: Honeyhammer Ohgirliekevwe NayummyRealmuch
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson
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