Alibi
Memory in hand and pen agape
The allusions flow freely
I’d start in abit.
The rigours of stages in life
Is a farce I am yet to comprehend
I’d write
A time saddled with burden of innocence
So lavished.
The peer’s shadows looms over
Lost in the crowd of our thoughts
Envy is measured.
In maturity confusion is eminent
At a point nothing is pleasing
Efforts become so vague, we end partying in graves
At peace with everything but ourselves.
In strangers strides, memory at hand fades.
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