​THINK THE GRAVE | by Awogbemila Temitope

“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.

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