You knock on my door to dominate my house,
I fight against you but you rip out my guts;
growing weaker each day as my heart slowly rots,
as my burning flames of life,
you affectionately douse.
The sun’s glare pierced through the crystal clear window,
beaming dreadfully off the blade of your wicked scythe;
with your empty eyes that were ever so blithe,
my wife, you would
soon make a defenceless widow.
In the distance appears a grapevine,
as I slowly begin to flatline.
Adesina Aanuoluwapo John - 2017
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