just across the wooden bridge,
Through my mind I begin to sift,
retrieving nothing but a smidge.
I walk towards a wall of uncertainty,
as the ground burns my feet,
Soon to be a canvas of burgundy,
when its surface and my blood meet.
A colony of projectiles pass through me,
Like rabbits, deep down they burrow,
Pain surpassing the sting from a bee,
as a plough on the field creating a furrow.
My soul escapes as I fall to my knees,
Then I make a loud final wheeze.
Adesina Aanuoluwapo John - 2016
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