Look, they are like totems in the belly of the the beast, waiting for their deaths
Slim images like unfinished plans to be wrapped in the womb of Next Level
These prisoners are known, they run a round evil shadows
In vain they shall remain hoping for the laughter that has been broken
For when the flower withal, there is nothing vain smiles can do about it
When your hero dies in the future
You are not the flower that lives forever
Your smile shall turn to tears and then you will realize that your sperm was watery to fertilize the egg shape
You shall be a virgin forest burnt to ashes
Your foremost beauty shall turn dry in the palms of your arms…and no alms for your dying stomach
You shall be a bright paradise turn dark, without looking lights
So pulse brother, sister pulse, listen to their propaganda, lies, sophistry, and sophisticated populist speeches.
Do not hate because they have told you to hate, do not spill bile because they have tampered with your head
Brother, before they kill you, check that you have forgiven yourself because when you die, you shall die in vain
…and be buried in the Next Level.
By Dele Elempe, Dec 09, 2020
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