JESUROBOOWIE GIFT IMAFIDON


Death Called At My Prime

DEATH CALLED AT MY PRIME
The lonely path way smells like the graveyard
Quivering, I finally entered my thatch roofed hut
Not even a meal could go in as the noise of the spirits could clearly be heard
Neither could the hard mud bed stop my body ache

Sleep died years before, nightmares never let it lives
My flesh dried out, busting with feverish sweat
With sullen eyes I assess my being; life has failed my living being

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