The temple bells bears the guilt of the valid blood
Men delicately spirit drown in the water of baptism
The flowers and candlestick groans as gruesome fly
We roam the grave as raven cawing the silent womb
Dead these days happen as churning exercise
As flood victims are evacuated into their nestling
Life showcases the shortness and brutish states
Their weakness can be felt when tears and sand pours
Sullen the surly neighbouring home began to mourn
All is surmise in the nostalgic moments & memoirs
The beauty of the narcissistic mirror fades when broken
A sleep each wished to run away from but I desire
For the gown of probity lies in the truth I proclaim
The mystery I defile for purity and stoically way I lived
You kill my burrowing body but my spirits sleeps
A blessed blue pleasure that expresses the tincture faith
A hope adorn in a minded body to regain his lost dignity
I am not predestined to die rather I will be revolutionized
As a fledgling season perfect in my immortal gown
Doing the work that portrays the sole desire of my creator
~Martin Ijir
Nigeria