Willful men
Groping blindly
Searching for long lost
destinies
Cast aside in the height of
ignorance.
Depraved men of substance
Listlessly cutting out a path
in patches
Edging their days closer
Dangling off decadence’
latches—
Sheepishly tailing accursed
strings;
Signing out their
annihilation to the nether.
Men sold out to rust
Like corn
On the very verge of ripening
They spin dearly nearer to
the edge like lightening
About to peel open the carpet
of the sky
Zigzagging their ways in and
thro
Darkness’ eternal delight
Men who’ve washed their robes
in affectation’s drool
Like timed bombs
Who can’t wait to detonate
Once men of honor,
Now prone to hallucinate,
Slaves to their own error.
Akpan
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