Too big to carry but I can manage,
His move is wonderful, that I even be tempted
The tale moves anywhere, but he knows where it can reach.


I chased him, he chased me
His tale is like a precious gold
Which I follow everyday I ponded by dream.


His anger overwhelmed me
Six or seven days I look, but no vision
The dog wag his tale in the river
Which I look, he smiled and barked.


The fowl never lives his chicken
Now I found myself I am over praise
You abase me of my face and barked
But I still nurture my discipline.


Since womb you grow together
Our promise of old faded
Say it, it will become part of me, where you lost;
You never left a stone for me.
Contaminated you fall, you are a enemy to me
Why cry, tale been cut
The flesh in sand, but face be like a dream,
Playing my arms, no longer for still.

© The poem boy= John
© The poem boy, BARRISTER J MONEY