Agba Ni

As I divine his failing air
See the thinning parts of his hair
I see a thing I do not want to become
But the things might I need not be told

Take this cursed thing from me
Yes! Oh yes a horrid curse it be
Tormenting my sleeps
Rending my shaky wisdom to rips

As I watch his wizened, unsteady gait
I knew then my father was an unlucky bait
For as his teeth shown with seeming wisdom
It held us young ones enthralled in that kingdom

Let this pass over
Let me not age like my father
For I shall not be a victim of age
And be thrust into society’s sage stage

I sense father’s creeping apprehension
I’m confounded by his apparent resignation
Why did he let the bastard win
Rob him of youth’s chipper inn

I though shall run, run to sweet suicide
Seek my victory in eternity’s secure hide
Beg it to take me before that blasted nature comes
For I loath the evil, tempting music it hums

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