Poetry Writing
20th June, 2016 Writers

Down beyond that hill where grown men go missing

Their head sinking deeper and deeper till its gone.

Down beyond that hill

Where cars and all things big

Are sucked into that yawning abyss.

Down beyond that hill

I lost my words.

It rings so loud

That my ears threaten to explode,

This silence. This strange silence.

Wide eyed I look around, 

Searching for pieces of me

In the trees, in Nana's teapot, 

But I'm nowhere to be found.

Nowhere to be found.

So I buckle my belt and lace my straps

And I set out.

For that yonder hill.

Those words I'll recapture

And those pieces of me I'll find.

If I die, I'll die me a hero.

For I'll find myself a whole.

Down beyond that hill

Where I might go missing.

Abuja, Nigeria
  • Sometimes you find yourself amidst seriously talented people. And you start to feel like you can't do any better.... Well. That feeling ain't singular to you.

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