Mind Of The Poet Poem by Israel Ugwu

Am the greatest of all
kind,
Seldom my mind's weary,
But wont kindle of a lost
mind.
They said i feel disdainful,
Wont be thankful,
Would just get myself
mindful.
Caught by the hook to be
unpleasant,
But never minded getting
loosed by peasants.
'Cause their wrath never
got
my life dismantle
And never quell the
light on me like a candle.
They say,
''The sky is upon his head''
''At night the 'maker' walk
around his bed''
''And all his fustration is
dead''
Aha! They got curious!
Wondering where my
Greatness got revoluted,
Not minding where it got
revelated!
It sprung into souls,
Unveiling greatness.
They Envied but got
nothingness
Yet they felt my charisma.
They said,
''It 'cause of his greatness''
''He's got skills''
''And his tenderness seems
relentless''
Ahgh! They saw
blunders,
But i'm human, i breath.
Perfection lies not in me
indepth,
But i ought to be
With a tendency of a glee
They claimed knowing the
truth,
But beareth wretched
fruits.
A horizontal Line of
imperfectness shew
They whispered saying,
''It cos of his Shortness''
''His shortness never gets
him perfected''
''Filled with deceitfulness''
''Laughs like one with
crack'''
''And never ought to be
frank''
Hmm... When things goes
wrong,
Life seem fustrating
Tending to make me
feeble
And thwarts my life,
It spreads like wild fire
They say,
'' 'Cause he's so
obnoxious''
''Greedy and tenacious''
''But pretends to be
sagacious''
But not withstanding,
I'm human, i breath.
Greatness got itself in
me.
Yes, seldom my mind's
weary,
But wont kindle of a lost
mind.