Nothing

Nothing is as colourful as your smile
I can hear your soul from a mile
Nothing is as sweet as this wine
Except your soft hand in mine

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One Christmas Eve

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I began to hate God at the tender age of five. I hated him for allowing my parents to be killed in a fatal accident. I hated him for pushing me out in the rain, cold and alone. I hated him for everything. With my parents dead and gone, I was forced to stay with an aunt, who blamed me for everything that ever went wrong. “Kolawole!” she would scream my name and I would run fearfully to her, fully aware that her wrath could bring down the earth. “Where is the money I put on the table?” she would roar at me. “I didn’t take any money. Aunty, I swear.” “Liar! You better tell me the truth now or I would put an end to your miserable life!” “But I didn’t take the money.” Though innocent, she would cut my flesh with razor blade and rub the wound with fresh pepper. I endured this hell until I could take it no more. Barely ten years old, I wandered into the street. The street brimmed with pain; its calloused hands offered nothing but venom and good grief. Days spent rummaging rubbish for food and...
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The first time I came to this world, I was cruel and merciless. My first parents celebrated my birth, throwing all night party where people wined and dined. I was their first child, so they wanted to make my arrival a very special one. What they did not realize was that I was not happy arriving at their doorstep. I was an Abiku and I loved being one. I was patient enough to witness my first birthday celebration. But the morning after the cake was cut, I decided to die, throwing the family in the deepest of all grief. While they mourned the child that never loved them, I was with my fellow playmates and we were happily ridding on the wavelet of the rainbow. Oh what a delight! Nothing in the wretched earth could be compared to the pleasure that flowed in the Abiku kingdom. In the morning, we would float playfully in the liquid wing of dazzling dawn and suck the brimming breasts of sunshine. At night, under the bright canopies of the virgin moon, we would gather and make sweet love t...
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