Ashamo Femi Ayodele
A Cynic On His Death Bed
In a while they will all gather around me
here in my lovely room
nobody said they should
but i know they would
all come to witness my frail figure lying seemingly peacefully in my Egyptian sheets.
Here they are now these whole bunch i call my posterity,
here to await my mortality.
See their filthy feet just lay waste to my Persian rug
now there is my beloved son drinking haughtily from my precious mug.
I have never entertained the idea of family
these band of familiar strangers whose supposed love still lingers on amazingly for three decades
A horde of leeches i think them to be, all creating an idyllic air for me.
I couldn't think of my precious belongings soon to be their own holdings
well i might take pleasure and delight that my wealth hasn't suffered blight.
So in one last act
i fake a smile
my wife comes forward and sheds a tear
what a charlatan and she has cleverly made her skin seem like it has suffered wear.
Finally i shut my eyes and remember my precious belongings
i shut my eyes and await its arrival
wherever i might find myself.
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Comments about this poem (A Cynic On His Death Bed by Ashamo Femi Ayodele )
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- Believe and trust, hasmukh amathalal
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