You are twice as lucky as the number seven
when you’re twenty-seven, I once read.
But youth is war,
and adulthood is freedom in a prison yard.
The spoils of war are never equal
to the blow of loss when you hit the wall.
Sometimes I do wonder if
I’m ever going to make it back home.
’cause I’ve come so far that I feel so lost and alone.
And if life is a journey,
I think I need my tour guide right now.
Because I’m losing myself,
trying to find the me I’m supposed to be.
Read more poems by the same writer.
Wilfred Yeminifie Deigh hails from Okpoama in Brass LGA of Bayelsa. He hold a bachelor’s degree in Petroleum Engineering from Niger Delta University and loves writing about love, society, life and host of other things.
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