who said so,
that this body is healthy?
Beyond doubt is an apocryphal.
Never!
It is my body,
I once felt the pains.
The flutists are UNTRUTHFUL,
the talking-drummers are TRAITORS,
the rearers are NAMAS.
Hear me,
oh! Towers of babels,
The wise fools,
foolish and unwise.
We inherited this disease,
inhabitating this virus in our veins,
yet no hope of panacea.
We are perfect match but...
You are the best,
but my brother wins.
Anarchism and death shall ever smile,
with this dance to our graves.
© CHUKWUPAT'O
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