you were once beheaded.
the red cap thrown to dust
with reckless impunity,
your treasures taken in sips
shrouded with music and alanta
sung by substance-abusing artists
you went to your death
with suya and pepper soup,
your companions.
They killed you slowly with each song
with each puff,
with each word,
but you left with your head high,
for as your end came
you took their senses,
replacing it with a gallant high
you showed them reasons to respect you,
you knocked them out
the way they ravaged you
the way they counted your comrades
all lying dead on the table
each facing the firing squad
each tasted Agbons and Dami's bullets
but you sent them to sleep
showing them you are the boss
what's more you would do it again tomorrow.
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