Working Title Poem by Jolomi Amuka

How did you do it?
I don't know,
You closed the loop.
So write this down,
The sky feels heavier when you not around.
W224, the code-less cryptograph,
Indicating your esteemed return.
And through your bloodshot eyes,
I see myself fighting for existence,
Like a ballerina with a peculiar attitude,
Tip-toeing on frozen grass fields,
Reflecting broken time frames,
Circumventing the 4th dimension.
Killing you won't make me weak,
It will only exalt my curse-ed profession.
She doesn't know,
So don't tell her so,
Or my life would be traded for coke and gold.
And though I might seem young, yet old,
My misson is and has been to survive untimely ills,
Evade the loop,
Retrain the troops.
This is my musical,
I decoded the truth.
A baby I might be,
But I offer wet dreams to dry streams,
Like Mr Maker,
I am your rain negotiator.