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The Heat
To you show all wound
Turn to you all weak
Beating the drum of help only in your house
Dancing only to your presence
Worst, you are trusted
Place a plate on my soccer
Though i smell it, but never doubt
MY absence, knife my yam
He serve the gods of 30 pieces of silver
He come along with them
He walk towards me
He kisses me
Then i feel the heat of a betrayer
poem
by
Azeez Adewale
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