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When by thy scorn and willful misjudgment
I think about thee among the rest
You were my friend but now turned foe
The devil in-between blurting my mistakes
He sits and laughs at all my blows
I can’t even look him in the face
The Enemy he is, my bosom enemy

Yet I follow him wherever he goes
Across dirty swamps we sailed
I prayed for wisdom to not surrender to preys
For we were two but in danger I knew he’d escape
He would deny even before the cock crows,
About my existence, as I was not pertinent
This he told my other enemies

My enemies grew in flock and numbers
One rumor conceived the others
I was afraid of the light, lest they make merry my plight
I must confess, these were too much to bear
Trying was horror in my dampened head
Dripping with what they said
I could not do it, signed, my enemies

I prayed and prayed till I lost the ardor
I cried all night till my days were narrow
In bed the sun saluted, in bed darkness came
Once a good fellow, I told about my foes
He promised to reveal their faces, which I may know
Look he said in this pot I shall give thee
There they were; my enemies were me!


‘Nonye J. Chidolue  (@NonyeWrites)


QOTW: “When you live with voices in your head, you are drawn inextricably to voices outside your head. Very often the voices work to confirm your worst suspicions. Or think of things you could never have imagined! There are only so many hours of the day to hate yourself.” ―Emma Forrest

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