AMASOWONMWAN

At arm's, I am but your brethren,
Ne pas comrade
Pour gold most have sold
Their Honors.
Others, for a spicy pot of pottage

The tree only bends to the wind
Because it doesn't know how to do otherwise
Ainsi be wise, precautions taken
Births no aftermaths

You are not your father's son
Lest, you wear the family's emblem
Upright;
Off white greyish, ripen with time
Solely relying on faith
Hoping for the best,
Yet ignoring all good
Seeing nothing right with better.
Amasowonmwan
Strangers shan't lay a curse on you,
Nor take your portion
A few know your real names?

Iten edo
Even the gods forbid that a father bury a son
But then also
The child is the father of the man
Alright?

The darker the skin colour
The deeper the roots,
For sour sweet tastes the truth
Like rumor, solid liquid smells it flavour
Symbolisms of our ancestral struggle.

Fear what you know
Not the unknown,
All these and more
Are reasons why people drown
At ovia river.




ghops

Nice one. I see the Shakespeare touch in your lines.

Keep it up.