LIVE TO REMEMBER THE MATCH

A post by a guest writer: my very expressive, wordy and super-intelligent dearly beloved brother, Cash Taiwo. Enjoy!

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Oh, no!
They’re all dead.
Fifty men in a room
To watch a game of football. There’s no air within;
I’m stuck behind a fatso.
I fight my way out
To find a man in a mask.
A can of gasoline in his hands;
He’s washing some cars with it.
He’s done, and he’s heading for the noise. He struck a match;
There are screams from within.
Oh, no! I locked the door on my way out. The key is in my pocket.
I’m running to the front door;
The noises get even louder.
Someone must have called the police. They’re here asking questions.
I’m too shocked to say a word.

I saw it all –
The man in the mask
Did it.
I didn’t see his face,
But his eyes carried hate.
Hate for the fifty men who came to see a game.
I saw the match; They felt the flame.

© Cash Taiwo

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