Written by Offorjamah Ogonna Felicitas
Confusion was the time I remember.
When the shape of the sun was the shape of the moon
And the colour of the moon, the colour of the sun
Confusion was my obsession.
As if fate undeciphered and contrasting motions
Possessed my soul
I do not resist that trying not to confuse
is confusing my state of confused confusion
The eye sees what the ear wants to hear
The tongue tastes what the nose wants to smell.
Daggers of positive negativity
Will not make us die young
Instead we will see when the moon has faded
For our eyes to see clearly
And the sun dull to make our darkness brighter.
Text © Offorjamah Ogonna Felicitas
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