Posted in poetry

LEFTOVERS

Eye gaze and fine face

That phase with grave fears

Deep thoughts, a heaving hive

My rapacious state neglected, so thrived

The adjuration came last night

The birth of demur lost I perspicacity

Today I live in paranoia

I share my bed with love songs

The letters of love in my chest still hot in flames

Maybe I should have harkened to that entreaty

Maybe papa loved her like no other

Could be he was bound to accept the extrinsic episode

Sometimes we have minions

Sometimes we are leftovers.


©OKOCHA OBED

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Author:

My name is Okocha Obed, you can call me Obeezy. I love to display aesthetics through my ink—I must say writing is my small world. I consider myself a deep writer; I say I am deep because I have discovered that part about myself, even, my fabulous audience share same view. I believe in connecting to all kind of persons as there is always something to learn from everyone. I see myself as an actor; to stay on the stage, I need to think ink. The voice is a reflection of myself and my conscience. I always felt I could be like superman while growing up. It was pretty ridiculous so all I did was dream of being a soldier. It was abortive. So I created a world where I could keep talking about the ills in my community but with other flavours to show I am growing into completeness. keep reading.

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