POEM: IT'S NOT THE END YET

So they say you are a wimp
And you sit in a corner taking the sip
The sip of the word that should have never gone deep
And now you are at the tip
Feeling tipsy on the statement of a creep
If you are a wimp then you are a wimp
The point is what is the reason of your existence as a wimp.
And for the so called dons
Chief over foolish con
Founder of irrelevant joints
The one who claims to be "Them Boyz"
You ain't no dons but dirty buns
You ain't no son but furious thorns
Worthless to life and
worthless to your self.

On the first note you've been seen as inferior
Comments from far and near says you are a minor
Your existence means no addition,
On a more serious note you are no subtraction
Your life measured on scale of fraction
Appears as a decimal that cannot be sanctioned
You were forgotten like that same cornerstone
But yet you patiently wait for instruction
You refused to believe you are a malfunction
A mistake in the realm of God's creation
But you have friends that treats emotion
Applying mockery and jesting lotion
Igniting in you the spirit to stand attention
Halting on a spot, wishing you were not on probation
Probation to die, or to live out of others notion.

Weep not child, God has said
To good life you shall be led
Stand firm even when pushed to edge
For your blessings is my pledge
Your enemies shall sing their dirge
But you shall be decorated in royal fledge
You shall travel on success sledge
Eat to satisfaction and belch
Things will turn round for good
As there shall be surplus for you
Those who mock you will come beg you
And you must forgive, for me to be with you
I've blessed you with lots of good
Enough for you to forget your past ill-use,
Enough for you to bless your enemies too.

BY: FASOLA AYOMIDE PEACE