My little star
My shinning angel - my soul star
My mentality, you drive me steriotyped
You hold up my spinal cord, yet you ******* me

I can't think straight rather I think of you abound
My little star
My shinning angel - my soul star
You lights up my way abroad, rather I'm steriotyped
You hold up my spinal cord, yet you ******* me

I went on a memorial well known dreams
I drove in a dream land and I say, you waked me up
You called me to come and you say! yet you whisper in my ears
Crackling and crawling through my skull - you say:
"I'm yours forever, I want to say; take me with you"

The cavity of heart it sings, it ripples, shudders and shudders
twinge, twickle - twickle my little star, no longer solitude I am
I look upon your face to see my yellow bone wisely,
Yeh! yellow bone wisely

Only the glope in my room was brighter than the moon and the stars in the sky.

With the pen, we linger.
Our heart, we pored out.
Our feelings, the clearer.
Finding words; when we are, it's like a bout.

Very spiritual, ask the real ones.
Pain-free, when it's coming easily.
Pain-ful, the writer's block forms.
Sigh! Finding motivation for our gree.

Blissful, it's our hope.
Unsubdued, a talent that brets.
In a globe full of glope.
We've found our own trait.

Having fun with intelligence, we often let out.
Ideas, muchly underrated.
Flashed stuffs, the world's missing out.
Desole poets, I know I've understated.

Peter Oyebanji (PIRO)