Artistic sin

sometimes, i feel your pieces
sont sur moi avec tout le poison
there’s nothing to do or say
about what a human chooses to feel.

these words carry life, corpses
c’est lui blessé par balle
that knows what it means to decay
you no see wahala na why you stand on your heel.

if them need to tell the person before
light and sound discharges
only heaven go show the replay
do, say, feel, and write what you think is ideal.

you must teach yourself to love the bruises
you’ll stay on the path and still go astray.

Victor Oyedele