Beseemingly Poem by segun Johnson Ozique

To be a star, when you are kinless, vagrant, forsaken,
Have your side ruled by long line of joyless faces,
Bombarded by army of no well wishing passers-by:
This happens; but only does when you are gone.

To have the command of a crowd; peeping faces,
Of strangers you knew never minded,
Of them, your presence you sensed, fouling,
This, you can; but will only happen when you are gone.

To have a day; scavenging no longer is your portion,
Agony over means for the next mealtime, buried,
All organs; refreshed, reborn as in birth, for a spell,
This feat you can achieve, but only once you are gone.

Why must it only be that once people realise you are gone,
About to leave the roadside bed once shared with moths and bugs,
To be in another, allotted in God's acre, amid maggots,
Their eyes, tremblingly feed on you, as would awe struck to stars?