Sombre methodologies that shot at noon
french fries now
Keeping nothing at Bay,
The crab taking food into its hole at moonlight
Tucked away from the crawly outlaws of the night.
The blurs of wasted years are like ashes
No relevance, just nuisance
An irritation that shouldn't be spared
the sod of fading sand,
Or the wings of elevated bands.
The fear filled cruel nights,
are the chunks of the past
That should wilt in the palms of halved knights
The Jungle of bodies blight!.
POET: Babatunde Modupe.
IMAGE CREDIT: Goggle Images.
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