The writers wish
She is the principal thing

Always served with warm dish,
he grew with a pout as a make up face
The chastening they do with a candy
each phase face is but a different mask
Unbend for no reason,
Like a venision each questioning is salted.

He bore the devils horns as banner,
He grew like a thorns tearing flesh,
He leave a remark on every lips,
Has he tips on his toes replacing bread with stones.

She’s blame for his deeds
But he bears is fathers name
He goes about braging he’s his fathers son
He had the chance to chasten him
But he was also his fathers son.

The labor began in a trade fare,
Portion the father his fair share,
Ration the mother her fair share,
it was a no care,
She was breeding under her breast
The devils mare, now turn into a nighthtmare

He was their child
His fathers son
His mothers pride
The community hope
Now awaiting a sentence rope

Alas! Gone too soon
His father’s son
Alas! Gone too soon
His mother’s pride
Alas! Gone too soon
The community’s hope

The blame is carried about in a stretcher,
So lame is thier clarity,
They all failed in their duty
As they played their role with foul
The price now is paid in full.

The writers wish
She is the principal thing
About Smile Austin 28 Articles
Male, 25 years Nigerian Writer. Novelist,poet,blogger and social media influencer Professional Economist.

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