Obrie Writes Poems

Why in this damn world,
Must the sickness of the dead,
Be the constitution,
By which am judged?
...

A rope round her neck
As she hung on the broken hopes
Hopes of a world where she,
As a woman would stand.
...

Which part of being okay
Do I look like?
The reality part,
The delusional part
...

My pencil broke in the midst
Of a romantic poem for you.
And I have a hoarse throat,
I cannot sing this affection to you.
...

Just how many!
How many meals,
How much can cure
This will to survive
...

All I ever wanted was peace
And an avalanche of peace came
Just to shred peace to pieces.
...

He walks with Hope
But his emotions are hollow
He believed that Life
Wanted Him alot.
...

Your honour,
My fault is loving.

I love when rains fall
...

Some where along the way
I lost hold of what was me.
Then I became me,
The me that you know.
...

Finally,
I know who I am.
Iam not human,
Am purely black.
...