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I look at you palely, perhaps amused.
Is this you?
I see you’ve got a new coat
Not the very one you brought, years ago
When you converted Timi
and your brother Edisemi
turning a house against itself
Afterwards, you offered a meal porridge
it was a political scheme therein
the earlier sentiments stepped in
and you also – you claimed you could assist.
my brothers were too demented,
rash and barbaric,
archaic and old testamented.
you could help rebrand them – so you claimed.
It was all your scheme
I’m seated here, along my corridor
I look at you from this pigeon-hole
It’s obvious you’ve come again
In your eyes, I’m an aggrieved melancholy,
a derailed feminist
wallowing in unguided philosophies
a mind as demented
as a tattered ghetto kite,
a parachute on an okada.
You consider me an untutored pianist
but here you are – obviously you’ve come again
to listen to my rhythm
You’ve come again
to tell us more religious tales
of how Abel killed Cane.
You’ve come again in your might
to feed us more lies
of love and marriage,
how it would be vain
if none mingles with your kind

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