A Hellish Path To the Grave

The candle light never stopped burning for aeons ago, A hushed rustle of applause testified to a widespread approbation, That was on the day he was certificated in the University, Indeed, he was a bookish arbiter of conduct; a balanced moral fibre. Tony - born in a home of abject poverty, a pretty immiseration, The wretched mother sold all she got, To raise all the buried hopes from their sepulchers, A thread to the valley and shadows of death to wipe her tears. As the hands of time ticks, Getting a white-collar job remained a mission impossible, Expectation darkened into anxiety and hopelessness, Their fathomless depths of suffering deepened. He threw a ton's weight of resolve upon his muscles, Doubt tortured him not; armed robbery became the last resort, On the early hours of 24th December, 2016, He called “Mother, I’m in Aba city now to be home tomorrow to rebrand your life” Tony’s voice was soft and full of assurance on the telephone, While the mother writhed in the grip of a definite optimism, Hours later, they attacked an entrepreneur, He was caught and the rest of the gang fled; a fluctuations of prosperity and adversity. The commercial cyclists came with their jungle justice, Motor tyres engulfed him like a deadly ring, His eyes stared unseeingly as more and more stones hit his head, The hope of survival became far, unrealistic and dim. His soul was compressed into a single agony of prayer, As mammoth pangs of regret made its splashes in his expiring mind, He pleaded for mercy, and the mother came to the crime scene, Disheartened and broken. And she cried and said “My life depends on him, He is my future, And everything I got, please don’t kill him” But the angry mob ignored her sorrowful pleas and set him ablaze. Honestly, it was an unforgettable afternoon, When death flowed in its accustomed stream. He never visited the poor mother again with riches as he promised, But only left Aba city through a hellish path to the grave.