Written by Editor

The vultures are back circling around his lifeless body.

He’s been there for many days, maybe months I lost count.

Why don’t they finish the job though

Why leave bits of him behind.

Is it so they can come back each day to pick on his carcass?

Some of us have become like these mean birds

Praying on the weak, messing with their heads.

Taking a little piece each day till there’s nothing left

Others are the corpse that lay empty and lifeless

They’ve lost the will to fight so they hang their gloves

And let it gather dust.

They lay naked in the open,

Fragile little fragments of who they truly are.

Some days I’m the vulture;

I frown at the weak and laugh at their fragility.

But when it’s my turn to fight, when the tables are turn

There I lay powerless on the floor,

Unable to struggle, unable to scream, unable to fight.

The corpse I frowned at once upon a time.

About the author


Bada Yusuf Amoo holds B.A in Literature in English from Obafemi Awolowo University, he is the publisher of thespeakingheart.com. He started the website in 2015, he has published both his works and other budding writers and poets on the website. He is a public commentators and his articles are on different websites.