TRADER OF MYSELF.
Selling wrestle my pains,
Never an alternative to any
Sister know as saint.
All I work is in vain.
Trading has reframed my name,
Reshaped my ways.
Only shame replicates this game.
Have ran races, walked through
Many lanes,
Searching to sweat for weight
On my plates.
That's how I made this place.
Wonder what would befall my
Faith.
Am aware this not save.
I pray, I pray my Creator
Would intervene.
Am ready to walkout of this
Gate.
This would make my case
Never remain the same.
HABIB AKEWUSOLA.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
good poem! but you should try changing the rhythms of your poem.the ones i read are all thesame