You murdered my dream
And now I am chasing nightmares
Of hungry monsters!
Poverty,
You know thin flesh covers my belly
I only know the softness lying inside
See, I am a saint who has no tale to tell
Even If I tell, the listeners will not listen
For flash of fears will taint my words
I will be slow like a house rat doing ablution
Poverty,
You made my ribbon clip my thin flesh
Into transparency of my ribbon behind my flesh
Like that dead mouse in the science laboratory
Poverty
What would I sacrifice to reject your friendliness?
My father died in the forest
When hunting for meat to make our dinner
The forest beasts ate his body
My mother died at the river
And was buried by the riverside as tradition says
Poverty,
I am but a saint, a man,
Living with you in a noiseless crowd of mansions
Where the villagers whispers in dumb voices
I only dream of striking thunder
I only dream of a coffin without a grave
Hmmm!
Poverty,
You ‘must’ friend of this saintly man
Your friendship will only deny me titles
My name will ever remain the same!
Written by: Bada Yusuf Amoo
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson
Reblogged this on Words Rhymes & Rhythm.