How quick you are to assume that after all this time you know everything,
That you have learnt whatever there is to my way of thinking,
When alas you know but a smattering,
You could claim your worth today and amount to nothing,
Though in reality, ‘nothing’ is something.

The dance shall be partaken in, however it is choreographed,
But it would be a mistake to think that it is all determined by how you act,
In the larger frame of this life I attempt to fill with an artwork,
You are as miniscule as a pixel, so try to act enlightened and watch where you blot, footwork,
The time for games is really past, and lust untamed was never really an issue for us, sheer luck.

Time heals all wounds but I don’t,
The comforts you seek and from which you quickly retreat I find a joke, “Ha ha”
If you think I’ll be in your tire, a lone spoke, know that I am well beyond matters of the heart,
Induratized thanks to another’s lies, galvanised and untouched,
Expect that not even a scintilla of rust –
shall impregnate this steel shell I wear and hold on to steadfast,
Who do you think you were from the start?

Of all your whimsical megrims I am tired,
Here today, gone tomorrow, quick to point and leave blame apportioned,
Feet I do not kiss, inasmuch as I aim to please, so consider your indecision frowned upon,
Your hallucination that I am to do more than is right by me for you is fiction,
But best of luck landing a role in your own play at the audition.

I am mine, doing as I please,
Taking none of any of your insecurities,
Intent on tending to none of your needs,
And most certainly,
compromising no more, as is plain to see

It is thee, not me, that is out of my league.

Yours only in dreams never to be lived,

Evans Mbora Campbell.

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