"Goodnight mom," "tkkk," and lights off,
Those were the good old days, biddings at early evenings,
Life was a roller coaster and all my needs were one request away closer,
If that was literally the only light to keep on, it wouldn't have been the good old days.
Now the lights on, the bills, payment,
We fight against sleep, it is not on the job menu,
Any arm not around the clock of the menu,
Is nothing money profiting.
Around the means to my end is dexterity,
Always on the pen and papers,
Such beauty to be a writer,
And a beautiful catastrophe to be a poet.
The voices are much in my head, thoughts of a population wavers through my sight each and everyday,
Can I forget the abstract bodies and matters left ignored,
My duty is to light up their beauties unseen,
Words are my tools, technicians of abstractism.
Headache is a core member of keeping it on,
The lights from gadgets at late night taste sour to the eyes,
Late nights-as early as three o'clock AM is the sleep hour and six o'clock AM is the wake time,
Late to sleep, early to rise, cheers to that,
Consistency is a choker and reminder,
It is saying “if you let me go, you let you go"
Three square balanced meals is for kids,
Soda and waffles can still serve after breakfast,
This is a curse that comes with age,
I must do this, in as much as I hope this content clears my next bill.
Scarlet Clinton is an African based writer hailing from Nigeria. He is a member of Poets of Nigeria and has written for organizations such as Military Pension Board, Nigeria Economic Summit Group, and Chicken Soup for the Soul, among others.
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