Every strong heart was once cuddled by
drops of clear, salty liquid
Lingering, then linking to
every hern of the face,
like the flow of River Niger and Benue.
A feeling of compassion
caused by the misfortune of others
rips us off our innocence
like a reality-filtered delusion
under a false impression.
Written upon my bloody heart
is a kingdom come, where I walk with a freight
that's beyond my light.
I ascend into the ether
of the netherworld, come what may.
— Olaitan Humble