Not Yours
-By Omo Diru
Moulded by hands,
Blown breathe and sent.
Life is a test,
Death is the end.
Entire lives we live,
And the time spent;
Nature gave us,
Nature will take.
Don’t make it yours,
You’ve already lent;
Love they gave,
Is love you owe;
Life you took,
Was not your own.
Though there was no other way,
All they wish was for you to stay.
Now you’ve made them cry,
The ones that loved you,
You shall be punished,
At least, for some of the few.
