Slave Of My Own Making Poem by Okim Otu

I seek tirelessly to know about mars
When I barely knew who I am,
I spend so much time to explore stars
When I hardly had time to admire
Beautiful roses in front of my door.

My worries are routine about my past
But can't appreciate beautiful memories past.
I plans daily for my future
But can't observed precious moment passing by.

I study to hone the mind,
I eat to nourish the body,
Yet didn't know the food for my spirit.
I call myself a teacher
Yet only just know a thing.

I am slipping slowly into
Slavery of my own making.