In a world so crowded,
I'm stuck in my space.
Feeling like I don't hold enough weight to matter.
Traded these dreams for this drugs, In a beg and barter.
Mother taught me everything I know,
But sometimes I act like my father.
Swivelling in cut throat situations
In a place where each choice,
Puts your head on a platter.
Carrying a big pride, I raced
through the crosswalk of recovery path.
And fell into the valley of relapse
Now, my after is my before,
And my before is my after
Rowland Howells Ibifiri Orumbie
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem