The Man Died Poem by LIGHTCHEERFUL BRIGGS

He is my man! He is my man;
He died-He died a miseries death.
Hollow it beats my mind
Of this great injustice, minor offence punishable by death?
What for? No this injustice cries to heaven for condemnation
Must thou be forgiven decree four?
No, forgiveness far from you
You eat and take delight in my produce
Yet lead me to the inevitable pit.
Decree four! Decree 4 hast thou condemned me?
Idiagbon as thou face clouds daily with horror,
So hast thou made the country weep for their groups
Be gone; be gone- ad infinitum
With a fainted and palpitating heart
He matched to the gallows by the grace of a trifle offence
Weak and helpless procession he stood
With the legs wobbling in between the two worlds
Fate declared it; it was the minute of my man.
Death glared at his face with ridiculous look
The executioner approaches with an angry mien,
Humane feelings no more but hanging.
The atmosphere of pandemonium smeared silence
Yet silence a killer phobia assume embodiment of peace.
The cat-call became venomous, dirge and elegy met
Still the man untouched; only but ready to play the rhythm;
Sympathizers sobbed with increasing agony and tears
As the executioner fast approaches
As though should cast a spell freeing these innocent tied to the sycamore tree.
Justice where are you! Art thou gone and gone forever
He cried muttered; reverend father woe unto you
That assume the power of God as you have power to create
Offering prayers of death, to puncture my tube of life.
What offence is it that deserves death, that you h
Idiagbon you have done your wish
The wish one day must play its role in you
You charge yourself with my produce
You destroyer of souls be thou destroyed is the alteration in beginning
As to Caesar so to Brutus
You that be the architect of departure
Farewell my man till we meet again on the resurrection morn.