A Bitter Pleasure Poem by Agboyi Felix

He hid behind the walls,
and thought he swerved all eyes,
but not I.
Peeping through that little hole,
I know not what circumstance
brought I to the sight.
From his tattered jacket,
as if without life,
in the slavest quarters,
a rubber-tied-spirit.
Thinking he cleared all round,
more a sip he took.
His beautiful frown made abound
the bitterness of his pleasure.
Knowing what prizes the delight,
and the twine pores of beating,
more he took in.
And though killing himself within
in thought, I think, sets him at ease.