War Are Not For Saint Poem by Blessing Asake

in a sprinter hour of a sunny day,
i keep losing my sight lately,
when the days are gone too far,
if I'm afar I will adore that day.

just that day I say
I look mocking on my ways,
now my living are terrible,
when will my day come even the end.

that day I wore trouble when walking,
I look nice in shark suit,
the goal is to see one to come fishing,
I'm ahead waiting in ambush.

if this flush come to an end,
I will never forget it memories
that we keep losing sight,
it wave will never came funny.