Falling Sands And Dry Sea | Edibei Joshua Chinaecherem

Let me find history in this window
Of poachers
I livid with fear
Timid soul I present in this ample thorn of minds
Let it be known I do this unbeknownst of knowledge that men killest Men
That soul has been forsaken for lesser good
Let it be known that this demise of mine will breath and Birth the Demise of good men.
That my strong skin of many testosterone has not hit the skin of lesser testosterone
The soil give away as the push in on holes
Not done on moist holes in my life
Like the soft and vunerable soil I noticed done on grapes with never-reducing boiled that emanates white tea.
Sand bouncing on me I wish I was bounced on the good side.
Even in my wants for my undoing
I go as I come
The wind howling at me from the sea.
It wants my soul too.
It's tired of keeping it.
Good men last but in tick-tok.

Poet's note: The poem tells a story of a man being set up unknownly. The confesses he trusted theses people and he shouldn't and blames it on his lack of awarenesses and knowledge of the situation. He is to be buried alive by his betrayers He gives us run down of the event of him being buried alive using erotic references to drives home his illustration.