IN THIS PLACE
An angry traffic grumbles under an angry sun.
Pedestrians plant weary feet where erosions run.
Haste is the natural pace.
It’s no race but we fight for space.
Chasing after money, can’t catch time.
Heartbeats, footsteps and worries rhyme.
Fury is at the tip of the tongue.
Plastic smiles hide behind suspicion’s fog.
Here, in this place, temperament stands on a broken rung.
Early mornings, late nights—rest is a lost song!
– Jide Badmus.
