“I do not set my life at a pin’s fee;
And, for my soul, what can it do to that”
—- William Shakespeare
The ailing air was bugling into my
Chest because I was sand wearing a black song,
My joy murdered like silence by the waterfall,
It was a song sung whenever inferno burns silence
Into a dirge and a requiem intertwined in sotto-voce,
Behold! Men lowering the sarcophagus,
Now the gasoline fueling the silence
Of this crooning song is beheaded, the song bleeds,
And it ruptures into a new air of squeals,
Screens, yelps, cries and
All walking on a ground made
Of me to his grave.
Awogbemila Temitope Ayodeji is a graduate of mathematical statistics; a blogger, a poet and an article writer. His poems overtime have been published on various online platforms.