A Man's Dying Word, a poem by Olaleke Angel at Spillwords.com

A Man’s Dying Word

A Man’s Dying Word

written by: Olaleke Angel


My days are numbered,
I can see shapes in the light
With wings on their back.
I heard a whisper…
About how I’m not alive.
About how they can eat the food,
After all I have got no mouth,
They can wear my clothes as well
For I’m already a dead man.

To a doll I’m compared –
A thin wrinkled doll.
Even the cruel sun shows no pity
Under it, I’m dried everyday.
I converse with the night,
For I have no sanity,
And I’m labeled a crazy man,
For telling of how I have seen the dead.

Is Jesus here?
Have you come for me?
Oh! I can hear the flaps of winged creature!
O God!
Can death come sooner for a relief?
I have worn same garment as death
And feel the heat of excruciating pain.
I’m dying for it hurts.

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