June 14, 2021
June 14, 2021


Written By Bright Ugo

What are you? Frail voices in my head.
A noisy babel, corrupting me, drowning me; damning me.
They fought with arrows of my memories: in my head they clamour
“You are death! A song without a tune, a wounded scar, a trapped bird
A web of despair, you are pain, the un-sinned sin, a labyrinth of wants
A quicksand hidden by flowers, a garden over run with weeds”
Words of despair became me, my soul trapped by its own webs
How gloomy is the sullen desolation that follows?
Thus, the voices continued: “your mind is your prison,
A prison only for you, your story too gory to be retold.
You are a half smile, a grim ghoul”
What am I? I am September 11, that day of doom
I smiled, when my ruin was sowed, I still held a cigarette;
Like a companion in my desolation; when the doctor said:
“You have stage three lungs cancer”
Thus, darkness enveloped me, despair became me.
I cried within where no one can hear,
Trapped where no help can reach.
I am the tree who cut my thread of life.
Garb with raiment of darkness, into death’s hall I will descend.

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