Dec 24, 2016
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Those strayed little children on the street.
I envy those mothers begging for survival;
While, I am here in the embrace of solace.

Those strayed little children on the street
with the burning rim of their eyes like a burning ember of lusty desire.

Those mothers, begging alms in their roof less hut,
carrying their rejected protruding belly around the farm;
Seeking luck on herbs and fruit that were burnt by the callous men of “Alagbada kingdom.

I envy those ladies;
whose panties were soaked with those useless foreigners semen;
and then isolated amidst young virgin maidens.

I envy their lost pride,
Envy the little passage under the skirts;
that has been dug into potholes, stinking gutters and soak-aways.

I envy the enjoyment in the stench coming under their armpit;
those bra-less wench at the brothel
on skimpy skirts,
displaying their commodity
all about guys eyes.
I envy those homeless hooligans who found their own abode under uncompleted divorced bridges;
And those youth who picks steel and broken stoves about the households.

I envy their sweats
I envy their illiteracy
I envy the strife,
Their tears
Their ignorance;
those drunkards walking head down the orphan highway and their crawl under your car,
in a ghastly accident.

I envy your fear,
the hit and run act,
Your deep breath that farts
your broad smile under your shallow conscience.

I envy all of them,
I envy you
I envy them
I envy those with these heart
I envy those with these eyes
And those victims of “life”.


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