iyamuremye will (east africa)

Venom! In veins
Here lies a woody like wood
Waiting to be snoozed on shores of sorrow,
Keeps on cancelling days on a yellow paper,
Rather than recording fading fate of its stoutness like the doctor had commanded.
Desire to live longer blinds its' mind to forget the night it committed sin;
Mercy! Mercy! Mercy!
It bawls loud enough not to kindle a quiescent virus!