Dipping into the sea of chores;
Choice if ask, I will relay,
‘Can’t conceive me, taking on turns:
Tussle, fumble; stumble.’
Walking, talking, working the world’s
Routing as far as West;
Bagging routines through days and nights
Should lessons learnt, I rise…
…Beyond the Spartan's head frame mass
And awkward temperate;
To leave nations to last my tomb:
Legacies of my birth.
Jobs I never put forward for,
I don’t look forward to.
My safety is life's struggles
I diva, not differ.
For Sara Kendrick's Jobs Contest.
Copyright © Abdulhafeez Oyewole | Year Posted 2014