Posted by Bako James Dele on
The quiet judge in my inner chamber,
born when I was born,
saw the vivid image of you,
perhaps you:
every stage you acted,
all the roles you played;
the ink that flowed
from your pen, colourless.
That which it watched,it reflected,true
the wage it paid,that which your duty earn.
Sorry,this is not you,
actually not;it’s how it sees you,
It’s soiled –bad conscience!