A Prayer Of A Youth Poem by Ossai Micheal

Though the fame came,
But went to the sky like flame.
With it they disappear with talents,
At their early age.

In the January of my years.
Spear me of one thing; die not young.
My missions are targets,
That give hope to less priveledges,
Dry long time tears,
See these and spear me.

The indepth of my gifts yet not revealed to no one not even me.
' just wait, my best, thunder the rest'
It a promises, but let me not fail it.

For one of the rules says ' Hounour them,
your day might be long'.