Upon my stool of love
I’m buried in a casket of doubt
My heart is like an injured dove
Which has been dealt a clout.
I can barely see tomorrow
Today is a lost shadow
Survival leads, and my heart follows
Feeble it is like a bones marrow.
Love ought not hurt this much
When a wink from an enemy
Or a wave, or a touch
Is subject to scrutiny.
Love is a prisoner
A helpless victim of pressure
Love is a wanderer
To some…an everlasting treasure
….Love is a lie…
muideen olawale jimoh
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/upon-my-stool-of-love/
