I remember a tale of Thursday, a dark one sent through the mail, sealed,
I see what you said about how out things played and wonder how you stood by and watched as I left, betrayed,
Even a horse cannot speak but at least it would have neighed, a donkey brayed,
You, just remained, rooted, and silent you stayed,
Your silhouette even looked on dismayed.
All I trusted about your persona became but a murmur I muffle within,
Everything I endeared you for, your aura displayed ever so proper, rusted and fell apart against veritable winds,
You seemed so distinct, unique in a plethora of vainglorious chic, upheld and worth protecting from the fiends,
Oh how I did not know your glow was a cover for your horror, fled I should have, but instead I fell into your whims.
You gleam to others, but I know you are nothing short of a monster,
While I may have lost my brothers, my wits remain ever-present, well aware of your skills as imposter,
Consider yourself dead to me, unforgiven and outcast, I see no need to have treated like a lover or better,
Worse is all you are worthy of given what you offered, see yourself to the door or jump off the banister.
From yesterday I have arrived at today looking to stay on to tomorrow,
And along my journey I have derived the truth of your perfidy, hooking on the noose to end my sorrow,
You shall not see a better day after all you have brought upon me without a sympathetic delay, say goodbye to anyone you hold close in that cavity so hollow,
Heartless you may have made me this May, but trust that you were always a shell from the beginning, that I should have known.
Yours in equanimity,
Evans Mbora Campbell.