SPONSORED POST: PUZZLED

PUZZLED

Beneath the shattered mirror, lies 
The body of our son, helpless
Born out of slanderous thoughts,
Nurtured by Environs hurt
And fed with holy mud.

He grew to attain forte, total
Danced to the tune of unexplainable force,
Till norms drowned his fire moves, 
Drenched, and quenched

Our wise elders wondered, awed 
Odd they thought of the cause 
Of young pangs and young hangs- death

So our awed elders, wise
Some named it depression
“No!” Others argued, and stumped, in disgust 
“Folly! That is what it is”
But none was sage enough 
To find source and cause, reasonable 

But the answers to unfortunate questions 
Can only be unraveled if we paid
More attention to our mystical sores 
For death by self is 
Strange to even Death itself 

Will our awed, wise elders continue 
To watch young ones wither 
Or shall we voice in accord
Before the next young neck is strung to cord
Or this too is unrealistic 
For it’s easier said than done 
Until the next young one is gone!
     Moyosore Babalola, Nigeria