To a well woven community,
Strife will foresee us.
The skins of honesty
Won’t do well to protect thus.
Savage is the name.
Free is the menace.
The eyes brow in shame.
To pray we must fur elise.
The pain comes in layers
Whenever I remember that December
And the Manslayer that hears no prayer
The death of you,the December I remember
Engraved on your tombstone was ‘Survived by Tori’
Thus, I shut the door on yesterday and its fray
On a quest to conquer death and its gray
My survival- our only victory
This is not the death of me
You better kill me
My return will be the end of you
A whole will be small pieces of you
I’ll weather it
The process, I will trust it
Within the four walls of my pain
I will scale the insane
For giving me honey lines
Woven beautifully like hemlines,
I will stay ever close;
Never will I have enough dose.
For calling me names
That burn as flames,
I will be yours alone
And never will I be blown.
I know we will travel to safety
and our hatchet die as seeds.
I believe the burden will not feel hefty
when goodness becomes our little deeds.
Our sun will have just a color
and we will be on this field with no armor.
Rain shall fall on both of us
and neither words nor actions will we cuss.
On this land we’ll sail
If by any means we fail
Let’s fall to a stand
And move with the band
Let success curtail
Our inevitable tort
Where words fail
Silence is our last resort.
Muse, see ehn, no be say me wan mouth
I know say e for beta make my actions talk.
But as e take hot, na shout me wan shout-
Sake of say na your joy dey help me walk
I don waka north through south,
chook head inside eastern and western stock-
Fulfilment I nor find, till you con clear my doubt.
Nnem, I straight for you like corn stalk