Love at the fourth glance, A myth or a reality? The fourth time you looked into my eyes Your pupils dilated to spell ‘stay’, The third time you placed your hand neatly in the embrace ...
I live in a city where bones are washed with cyanide, heads are maimed on a daily to be placed in a calabash; heads of goats and hens, garnished with palm oil, kolanuts and moistened ...
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