The Knurd Poem by Alexander Onoja

Musa was lonely, old and sad,
he was lossing it, was caught with fear.
He search'd a box and found a bottle of beer,
that was half fill'd, belong'd to his dad.

He drank it all and everything went blur,
his head ach'd as his eyes turn.
He got out and bagan to run,
and ended up snoring on the floor.

He was empty, in complete despair,
as he continued running without a goal.
He sway'd left and right with no control,
then be began beat'n his fist in the air.

One day, he stole a booze,
the running began, to him life was fun.
How funny it was to see a drunkard run,
ignoring the laughter and the boos.

He made his way to the bar; snatch'd a bottle,
the booze gave him a good feel'n,
as he stumbl'd home in the even'n,
with his arms around a young model.

She waited till the timing's best,
she touch'd her socks and felt her gun.
By day break, the model was the running one,
as she left Musa with a bullet to his chest.