Blood, Burn, Hurt-Is it really a worth
Happy, Merry, Drunk- I guess I’ve lost my focus
O Dearest inner child- I tried to avoid the void
But daily there’s a me crying silently “I’ve lost my true Reflection”
I reflect so because I see another soul
Reflections in the mirror, hopes for a divine goal
If God made us in his own image
Then my mirror might be damaged
Blood, burn, hurt!
Woke up to a stare and my image inside was for another.
Emotions sold many moons flown till I found.
Life can be so cold as steel, till we are still.
If God was one of us?
It will still be the usual heartburn – blood burn hurts.
Call me a moon head, not a really peaceful head
Lost but never found, my heart pound
Oh child, poor child I want to be a child again
Lost in this train again, with no exit but just darkness.
I want to live life again, with greatness.
Blood, burn, hurt… The only way to immortality
Happy, merry, drunk – I just won the World Cup.
Tales of a thousand years,
told from generations to generations,
etched on the Pyramids of Egypt,
bigger than a Hollywood script.
Every blood was a blessing.
Every burn was sweet buns.
In every hurt, you made history.
History recreated in
melody.
The fall, the rise
The ups and downs
A cure, a grease
To the aching bones.
Poignant lines to your victory story.
– A collaborative masterpiece by Naija Poetry Fest Community members.