Then, she came like a night night thief
With her goons; pain, hate and a fear
Not to find love or open up
She made a nice room for herself
And became the new year’s belief.

Tom, made the decision herself
To leave here and drink from Death’s cup
Still, the grief wouldn’t give a cheer
He comes with nothing but raw beef.

Some truths we seek reeks disbelief
Others would get lost still unclear
Walk down the aisle, from the cup, sup.
Then, she came like a night night thief
With a friendly fire for the shelf.

Victor Oyedele

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