The Steem on The Chair

In a summer of happenings,
In a whirlwind of activities,
Came in a foreigner, One so glue you'd forgive the Mou.
It offers, to the best and the bastards,
a chance at redemption,
where siblings of the devil milk the earth off the nothing that it is,
Forgive our lies, lays and and indecent lanes.

Forever is a long time,
As high as the Eiffel tower, on a tripod of blood,
Marked by zealotry that was birth in the East, the West and the upper and lower poles apart,
Follow in the way of the dark, birth in the light, puff at the dark,
And split at a gathering of tens.

The bespectacled man,
Behind a micro, soft window.
Hazy to the touch of the one so faraway,
Clearly in a rush,
for in the eleventh hour, he found the lord,
Dressed as steem, holding it on the chair.

For the love of Introduction.
I am Tayelolu. A writer. Righter. and a Wrighter.