The Masses Poem by Michael Eziudo

At the wee hours of the morning
When through the scary dead silence
That all I could hear was the tik-toc-tic-tok of my timewatch

I saw the words I watched my eyes hear
It was heavier than I could breathe in alone
And too bitter for the four tastebuds of my tongue

It flew out of my heavy heart
It drew out the tears I never knew I stored
I sobbed till I could cry no more

At a point I got up from my tear-soaked bed following the shouts and distractions of my alarm
I rubbed off and sighed
'What concerns me?
Or am I now the president?
The country's matter is a stately affair
Some people are paid to bear her headaches'

I should have gotten up off that bed with smiles caused by the rise of a glowy idea
But the I-don't-care attitude brushed of the fruitful fate
And so everyday
I leave my house giving birth to no contributory effort
Towards the growth of the land
Yet I come home daily with tears and curses for pains of hardship

It may have been me to get it all right but here I am among the masses