She is dying and so am I

for favor

 

Autism has got nothing better but I do. He's ripping the

garments – like Joseph's, of normalcy and acceptance, sown by me;

like a fashion designer; whose scissors and skillful stitches are

passionate smiles and error–snubbing cuddles off you.

 

You're the graveyard that answers me with rumbling silence,

whenever I spit blood and ask "what again have I done?".

You once marked yourself, and the hurt pages emitted red inks

 just like mine; as fesh as the morning dew; so; why so dear to autism?.

 

Although, your demon is too kind to our union that he

feeds us up-side-down in chains;

diluting our loving sensation with

bitter leaf's chlorophyll.....yet! now; is when true love speaks.

 

If all eagles are busy, I'll adjust your continuous and

impulsive actions that dig deep – a well of anger and frustration

into my skin, they should be strong enough to wing me up;

as I knock on God's blue door.

 

If questioned, I'll be plucking out the pins you deposited in my body bank,

like two, like three, with their bloody labels.

I'll steal a cup of cognition and fetch you a handsome

volume of I.Q if dignity fails.

Psalmuel Benjamin Oluwasheun

Bio:  He is a young Christian poet, short stories writer, dramatist, artist and inspiring lawyer from Nigeria.  He is a round writer with the fear of God.  If he is not doing the above mentioned exercises, he'll be praying.