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You might not know,
That it was evil you sowed,
Yes, it has treasures and pleasures,
But underneath lies quietly turtures.

Yellowish, when you were kid,
Pick up the flower and at a grip,
You held it and your palm burned,
You never know, It attracts viciously.

You shouldn’t have pressed on,
Because we know it looks like fun
But it is not fun but thorn,
Once it enters you, you have to remove it.

It is really a thorn,
That entered your foot with ease,
But you must remove it with force,
It won’t leave alone but with bloods and flesh pieces.

The path really looks like ceaser’s palace,
It was the one that fell on Oedipus,
That was only the outward look,
The inner is glory depraved.

This is the path we’ve treaded,
It has junctions, amorphous junctions,
You might not know, just dwell a bit,
You are already totally in your doom.

I fell in it,
I trailed the firery path,
But I got back before I got,
To where it is disjointed.

It is path of fire,
Don’t tread nor follow nor trail.
Ahmad Adedimeji Amobi
25/11/2018. 11:40pm. Saturday.

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