The puppet master of this world
As the seconds hand revolves
Around the clock on your wrist or wall
So does everyone in the world
He puts his strings between his fists to switch
between day and night
All ye with a name must play
As a character on his stage
He moves around to see these plays
But goes never in a jet or plane
It’s safe to say
If you lose your way
More of him you’ll crave But if it gets too late
The way you played to his games
Will be engraved on your tombstone
Poetry by Ibrahim Kadiri (@Iam_laylow)
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