Autobiography of me

I knew the world was so cruel
I spent more than nine months
In the potty womb of my mother
Innocent me, in exculsion for any other.

I was born on a sunday, true
I’m religious, but it’s not my fighting words
I believe solely in God and no other
My life is but series of events in His order.

I was born in October, with no clue
Twelve forty five to be precise
I see life as a battle for a soldier
Fighting his very own life with eachother.

I didn’t choose black or blue
I’m not my hairs, leather, rubber and size
Life is bright, but I was born a thinker
Like my father, finding ways to make dull brighter.

I’m a Deltan, from a blood, pure and true
Flowing through the streams of Africa price
Acquring degrees, one after an other
A sucker of lies, deciet, hatered and fake lover.

I feel lonely at times, many and few
Will wish me down, but I do always arise
I’ve walked roads, wider and narrower
Honestly, all man is a brother and sister.

I’ve walked through fogs, mist and dew
Pleasure and pain, fire hot and cold ice
I’ve been backstabbed by my own shoulder
For I’m eager as greatness, and I don’t bother.

Exams I failed most in life, are those I knew
Each time the phone rings, it turns the dice
I cheer up always even in dreams and when I’m sober
Because on earth, I’m nothing but a humble traveller.

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4 Comments

  1. Jenny says:

    Well, that’s cool.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Jenny says:

    Cool

    Liked by 1 person

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