In the midst of looters
There I saw myself in bars
Threaten and hatred
On it I thread.
Lookers of jealous behold me
Generation of envy held my tree
The black rider round my abode
And in scare I hold.
Pass me by Oh! Lookers of death
And let me be free of breath
Save my soul! Oh Lord!
And grant me a powerful rod.
© Omotayo Oluwatobi
anointed
©anointed
A