One day all our thoughts
Will perish and the songs
In our memory will fade
Slowly like a bad dream

That day we shall call the
Pit our father and the dust our mother
While the maggots be our brothers and sisters
And we shall make the sand our roof
To roof the earthly worries
Where we shall not comeback again

Together we shall lie
Down in harmony
To cloth our flesh with worms
As our body will be made open
Oozing with pyogenic

A day you and I
Will be out of sight
But not to be out of mind
Where we must have gone
To the far silent land
That even men will be tearful
And couples who hadn't spoken
For a week will hold hands
To usher us to the land of no returns

Think of that day
To keep trophies in your
Cabinet that will not call
The dust their mother
The pit their father and the
Worms their loved ones

By: Sunday Oyinmiebi