Roses Weaved With Thick Thorns Poem by Oti Egwu

What an explosive bang from a powder keg!
My ass is in flames, my head in rage,
As the nothingness of my guile rise in shame;
Through strings of unflattering dejavu.
Alas! my past has birthed an obstacle in the present.
Why did this emerge at the dying embers of my vices?
At a time when focus is most priceless
And when i decided to step up to the plate
And re-arrange my acts on an empty clean slate;
Unbeknown to me, the whims of Unguarded amity pulled me down
That even the spoils cannot be covered with a Persian gown;
Hence, i've been caught dancing naked in the devil's playground.
Tellingly hope shall certainly crawl in,
But after harsh strokes of topsy-turvy,
And boiling heats from the pyre of blames;
For ahead of me are better and brighter days
As life would always be a bitter-sweet phenomenon
Like roses weaved with thick thorns.