Darken Hour by Babalola Israel A.

Homeless and hopeless,
it has become survivor of the fittest,
life is now a hit below the belt,
black turns white; white turns black.

See the man of straw,
nothing is to be proud of.
A man of nothing, every struggles are fruitless.
Present hour is dark; future hour is darker.

No home to live, and I'm overwhelm with hopeless,
I bargain with the pigs for food,
I struggles with the goats to get water,
even once in a blue moon.

The painting works of my life was done and dominated by darkness.
I can taste the bitterness of sorrow,
All labours are in vain;
vanity upon vanity.

Moving from frying pan to fire,
my head is down!
I delivers the last speech in my mouth,
before I get a drop of honey.

Why is my hour darken?
for I am abundantly enriched with poverty,
ill-luck locked me with a lock in a lucker.
Truly, I dwells in the solitary of darkness.

Optimist turns pessimist,
I go cap in hand all through the days,
Yet! It is a wild goose chase.
I am solitary for all families has given up the ghost.

I sang the dirge of my wife,
I have buried many children I begot with my hands.
My hours are up. My days are gone.
How loud I cry in my silence.

Babalola Israel A.
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