I Won'T Die Alone Poem by David Oluwatobi Akinola

Behold a little baby,
Looking weary and never stopped crying,
Pretty and robust,
Making me ask why she was abandoned/alone.

Then came a lady,
Compassionate and willing to rescue,
As she came closer and closer,
The volume of the crying went higher and higher,

Grabbing her by the armpits,
The baby explodes,
Shattering into barbecued pieces,
Each shattering glasses like stones.

People swam in smoke, whose current was in chaos per second,
The baby crying track was over,
The boom! Cue was done,
Now the stereo played another track;
Containing a combination of gasps, coughs, groans and cries,
Each having its own note and pitch,
With a distinctive “help, help, help, somebody help me” yearn.