Diary Of A Predator Poem by Raimi Babatunde

Don't wait for the trumpet
The book is already opened
Painted in Specimens and trophies
Oh! How he relished in his prowess

In his catalogue of specimens
His flows were lucidly lucid
Destined for pleasure in conjugality
But offered to a dog as a sacrifice

An enigma, fearfully created
With a lost identity in frivolities
Designed for exploits, ensnared by a predator
What a shame...

In your book, you were glorified
Surreptitiously you smoked them all
And dotted them with pens of shame
Soon, you'll be served in your own coin

The shame, matter of factly, it's on you, a gamer
To our 'victims', you are victors
Keep the privates privates
Then go and sin no more
Before you judge them, make sure you're a saint...