'Stamerers' Poem by Kolade Seun

A day with stamerers,
makes you a wanderer.
How you wish to tame!
So cold the throat and lame.
Bit by bit the dingle drops:
scattered pieces like a wrinkled crops.

So easy it is filing these thoughts;
But in this little black hole, they must stay,
in order to avoid that little body prey.

Holy Stamerers, we've only seen roads with bumps;
but in your words, there dwell a haven for Bumps.

My skin says your spittle makes me cold;
gradually, it says its turning old.
I wish I could ask you; how you came about this bump in your vocal folds.