umoh cyril

Rookie - 300 Points (05/12/1995 / Lagos nigeria)


Poem by umoh cyril

Who is that on the mirror,
With his face so green,
He seems to stay in the mirror,
And looks exactly like me,

Why are my fingers red,
Like my grandmother's dress,
When she fell dead,
Twas all a mess,

Why do I grow fast,
And matured suddenly,
Like a bomb blast,
That kills instantly,

My hair is turning grey,
I see with this mirror I hold,
Its time for others to pray,
Because am growing old.

Topic(s) of this poem: art

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Poem Submitted: Saturday, November 1, 2014