I stirred the caffeine more times than I sipped.
Thoughts of my beautiful struggle filled a sense uncommon.
More like a train window that remained dusty. but I saw my destination clearly.
Am on my way to peace overlooking the outcrops of reality.
Whom I have become was obviously unplanned, but who I will be is already in the sculptors fingers.
The sound of the missiles reminded me of what forever didn’t mean.
But I let go these thoughts and then I penned.
Take this note and give her, you know who.
You don’t have to show her the scars that gave her this meal.
Nor the care that made her this real.
Don’t explain to her when she asks why the paper seem rough.
Just tell her the words were born the days I lost the gland that secretes hope.
As for you my friend? Just know that I can finally load a cartridge in the dark.
And to me, this war is Over.
Nwanguma Ogo (Sic)