I hold you tight up against my body
I take you with me even to the party

I rub you back and forth
Up and down from south to north

I love the way you sing hard and soft
I just can't keep my hands off

I pull you close
From coast to coast

You are beautifully sound
I will never pass you around

Magnificently perfect
You have all of my respect

You are my best friend
Till the end

The rhythm of the burnt pages,
Of the diary of life with no wages,
Pages of old memories,
That you may consider as stories,
Which sometimes ooz tears out of me
That which I wish u knew.

The rhythm of the smokes of the diary,
That which makes me weary,
Putting in you in a dilemma,
A sophisticated dilemma.

Pages that makes me smile suddenly,
But in the aftermath, resulting in a cry,
Then I sit solely,
My tears has not dry,

I might have cried ruining my make up,
Pages in that needs to be burnt,
That which I write every morning when I wake up,
Memories I can't erase, pages that will remain burnt.

My enemies spread like the branches of tree,
But I manage sometimes to drain Mississippi With a straw
Hatred like burning inferno
Love is a scarcity
Like rain during summer
Tears is a necessity
Like water after meal
Death is an option
Like faith without fate

Sometimes I beat myself up in your glory,
And sometimes my tears flow like river Nile in your honor.
Your wonders on me are misery and dolor,
And starting over is your judgment.

I know failure is a tool in your hands,
And pain is your mercy.
You are a warlock, who conquers hearts and lands
A general you are, that breaks one in pieces.

You are a pause in success,
And disappointment is your surname.
A predator that preys on even lions,
And auguish is your mercy.

But I know you a soldier that matches me on
Keeps me alive to push harder and harder,
Makes me go further and further,
To struggle, until success is my slave.
.
Balogun David Tolulope
{drunk poet}

i was born
with a heart too big to fit
inside my chest
and a soul bigger than my body
so i have chosen
to leave pieces of my heart
in the places my feet have known
in the people i have loved
in the words i have read
in the beauty my eyes have seen
and my soul-
i have scattered it like seeds
and i have left parts of it
in songs,
in poetry,
in the laughter of children,
in the arms that have held me
and the hearts that have loved me

The way people perceive you isn't gospel
You're one of those flowers freckled alongside the highway
Always mistaken as a ****