Friday

Poetry: BLACK THOUGHTS


Evil is he who conceives
The unchained reaction within.
The plausibe approach without caution.
The white witch would never drown me in her concortion.
Thoughts as Black as the raven's wing.
How is such guilt built inside our flesh suit.
The nightingale sings in a voice so mute.
Is it fear of predatory doom?or another rapture of sinful fume.

Where art thou hidden my chest?
Where art thou hidden my potion?
It is too early to bear a good heart.
I await your probation on my high rising coalition.
This deal of goodness is of no goodness of deal.
I have fed this vixens in long robes my soul as a meal.
I might past last spare you the benefit of doubt.
Flee from my cerebellum domain before i chant on your early sprout.

Written and edited by
ABIDEMI OYEWOLE SHAMSHUDEEN.
Copyright protection upheld

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