HURT

When will he stop
Persecuting that guitar
His voice is hoarse
It hurts me

It digs a hole in my armour
Roughly
And scoops me out
Hoarsely

I wish I could remember him
In my dream tonight
When silence is wall
Enclosing me, she’s gone

His voice is gruff
A street musician
Enjoying his moment on stage
Roughly.

– Che Chidi Cjukwumerije.

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