Finally, I’ll drop my pen.
I won’t write until the angels
blow the horn
blow the horn
I’ll bow to pressure and give
tyranny a chance.
tyranny a chance.
Perhaps, maybe this will be my
last piece.
last piece.
The tyrant coerce the pen
Still, the ignorant youths applaud
him
him
At their own detriment and woe
betide them,
betide them,
Those who call us liars and
cowards.
cowards.
I’ll write their ode
A symphony of their folly
An expose of their brief sense of
history
history
And I’ll bury them in ink, so bad
they will asphyxiate.
they will asphyxiate.
I’ll match to the city,
Armed with my pen, against an army
of thousands.
of thousands.
I’ll rather die than let my pen
stop talking.
stop talking.
I’ll rather give up on my hopes
than let my pen be intimidated.
than let my pen be intimidated.
written by Olayiwola Afolabi
olafolabi96@gmail.com