~‘’ALL OF YOU‘’~

It's all of you that own this poem;
I am not even the author of this poem.
This poem is written by all of you,
It's written by all your religions,
And by all your ancient traditions.
If it is all not so,
Then I'm lying.

Tradition will cut of your hands,
But not t o take away your eyes.
It always run through our bloods and veins,
Like my last days in Atlanta.
If I say I have not been there,
Then I'm lying.

If I say I wrote this poem all alone,
Then I'm lying.

It's like copy and paste.
This poem is a decent fighter,
Whether militant or boko haram,
I don't want to know.
Then I'm lying.

This poem will go to the grave,
This poem will resuscitate.
It will walk to the schools,
It will go the church or mosque,
And it will fall on the streets,
Like a dead man's fall.
This poem I have not see it,
Then I'm lying.

Whether christian or not,
God is just one, not many more.
"In as much as God is love,
We are love, unless you are not".
Let no religion cut you off,
If this poem that is not mine,
That I said it belong to you all,
And I don't know what is written in it,
Then I'm lying.

~-WARRI STANLEY.~