Weighed by vengeful thoughts to en throne a thousand consciences
I walked in virgin ed streets, with stereos of hypocrisy pulling my pulse to strain of tense
If I listened to you, you’ll only send me packing away with shame and a mark known
My blood is boiling to a brim of pleasure stewed to fill the marrow of my bone
I am lost, Despair says.
Suddenly no contents introduced her veil which couldn’t remain no more
Her heart has coverage of a life giving herself to the world so of ecstasy
And then a suave passage to lotion it pleasure
Now elevated in thoughts not even tempting one can leisure
I’m lost, sold despair cried
Like a foal bursting out of its egg, like the first taste of an evening meal
No metaphor can be steeled to make you fit in the mortality wheel
Now I’m consummated producing guts of courage, tale and a story
Bearing this mark, I stabbed through adolescence poetry
I’m lost, yes I am lost in despair of an adult.
2011 Copyright Rudolph Naanhoot Adidi