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.