don’t you think it’s poetry,

They think it is,


You know who.

Let me tell you something dear,

These aren’t just written words,

This is life.

Lend you ear close to them,

Just hear them breathe,

It isn’t their last of which they’re exhaling but,

A living exhalation in need of your semi inhalation,

Let me just say,

Apart from your nephews and nieces,

House pets and your girl friends,

You haven’t been putting your mouth to good use,

Stretch those lips and be charitable for a cause,

These air we breathe isn’t free at all.

If it was, we weren’t going to lose inhaling it one day.

Now that we lose our loved ones to a Deity unknown,

We have to tread carefully with either our words or deeds.

A lot of man is lying beneath the soil that nourishes our food,

clothes and spirit.

When all is done,

When our names have been called,

We shall go underground like rap stars,

When all that happens,  this world shall know,

Ours have been completed.

Nobody knows what it is,

It could either be a mission or God-given way of life ,

Though not all of us believe in Him…………………………



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