Death or life,
What shall I cry for,
These two potent entities,
Made me weaker and stronger.
Death is my character,
Life is my nature,
They are must upon creature,
Acceptive in utter culture.
An opportunity given here,
To live and built there,
In spite we moved nowhere,
But the spirit is moving rare,
For the destination favour no one.
Depression up loft,
Good though has lost,
And the soul unloved,
While the heart unlock.
I’m not afraid of death,
For I know it deals with date,
No matter how I’m updated,
It’s just to reach that stipulated date.
My fear is for life,
How can I make it lively,
Not hurrying to get wive,
Surely we cut by knives.
Today is my chance,
To build it as chaste,
To write that can change,
The though of a chant.
I’m floored how we behave,
We move close to grave,
With hair unknown shave,
In though we are slave.
We took it as delicate,
No one will abjudicate,
In state we are decate,
Who else can fabricate.
We stay here willy-nilly,
We talk about hully-bully,
We forgot it niccy-nilly,
We destroyed nitty-gritty.
Ali Tijjani Hassan writes from Yaro Gambo Street, Potiskum, Yobe State.
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