Talking to myself through poetry
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My first heartbreak came from my father
Who made me wear my bib and tucker
After promising to take me to the end
Only to dodge and drive me round the bend..
My second heartbreak came from my mother
Pressing my wounds with boiling water
I was broken underneath her armpits
I thought she promised not to press it.
But these heartbreaks prepared me for the world
It opened my eyes to see beguiling odds
And how they cloud the gullible brain
Hence, I trust not all calling me sweet names.
Soon you will be off an infant cloth And may encounter storms, dirt and rust Some achievements may seem a mirage Unachievable until success emerge…
Let the pages fly and spread their wings Let my spilled inks make millions to think It is plain and simple, hope it sinks “All…
Simple or made into an Elf What is music to a born deaf? Same question goes without tongues Pot or Chef, who spoilt the stock?…
It is no news that the pigs are fat As a result of the embezzlements Taking politics as a personal farm Eating from the labors…
