A Long Morning Poem by I.C Nnaji

Strangers, player's drain;
Who knows the cry of the dry?
I come before, as a rake;
Pilling leaves, cutting grasses;
So cold, a time, distress cause it

Even if, man down, ladies weep,
Craze grown, look out man and see
The tide of moment, real dough's;
A forest, nothing new, lesson learned,
Make it and live. Wrong time, sister's bloom,
Main dream.

Finish, live true, a tone, a chase;
Willing mind, never to go, real knows,
I can read, is as dark as snow,
Nothing else can sing, but the true nature
Of man, knoweth her case!