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DESERTED


What artisan will work on my oval head?
Shaped by hunger and sunlight,
Who will listen to my tears
Echoing the tone of the bereaved,
My round-shaped lips
Laughing hysterically at my misfortunes.

Mother departs, taking Pa along,
To the city behind the celestials
Solitude pleads not to be alone,
Take me along or I will follow you,
Let the doors of heaven open
And welcome these little visitors.

I am the voice crying for lack of shelter
A body rid of clothes
Pa, where are my trousers?
Mother, where is my lunch?
My abode is transient when Pa is no more,
And Mother is far from me.

A shudder washes me
As I drink in memories of their affection
In this coldness of longing,
I am deserted.

Who will hear my wailing voice?
Except the moon and the stars,
That keep me company at night.


Johnson Victor Oluwatobi (also known as brokenGlasses) is an alumni of the University of Ibadan. He writes poetry and fiction.

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