Our daily bread was always offered
Our breakfast, a cocktail of remorse
Our daily sin, always coffered
We were freeborns, redemption just a plus.
Our speeches became the shepherd’s brothel,
A shelter for the unfaithful loins.
Our smiles were a septic abode, a fool’s favored motel,
Purchased by the four sides of two coins.
Existing proved a perfect cover.
Living, the nemesis of our facade.
Vanity, our clandestine lover.
Our wandering, an act of God.
Our old ages are now festooned with ribbons of truth,
Memories of clairvoyant dreams and unmet thoughts.
A message cursed to escape our youth
Pamphlets of conquered quests, false redemption and crumbled forts.
On our deathbeds, we endear our shortcomings.
We see man’s depravity and crave the touch of colors and beauty.
We worship at the blankness of never hoping
And for the only time, we fail to question eternity.
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Post image is “Maritime Melancholy” by Sten Dueland via Flickr
About the Author:
Iwundu Wisdom is a high school leaver of 2011 and currently works as an administrative assistant for a traveling agency. His love with writing wasn’t love at first sight, but he believes in it anyway. He writes for elsieisy.com and owns a blog that feature writers. He can be reached via
His blog: whizwrit.wordpress.com
Twitter: @i_w_u_n_d_u
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