As I Shiver in summer fever
My head is aching as my fists clutch in agony
Fever has gotten me down
And my bones are weak
Cold has taken over me
As tears roll down my cheeks
My hairs burn out fire like dragon's flame
The hotness of my body can boil yam
The poet is sick
The comedian is down in his couch
Very down in marrow
Very sick in this shallow valley
Home alone I am
Watching the furious days in war
Home alone even at the Verge of war
No friend to praise
No enemy to fight
My world seemed to shatter
In this my lonely lofty bed
I moan like a woman in labour
Home alone as my soul smell my shallow grave
Fight not my pen
Judge not the flow of my ink
For I am a born writer
My pen, my ink and my paper are my strength
Home alone
The sorrows of a wounded warrior
He said it is not over
He set my home on fire
But not my life
The poet will soon be well
Please pray for me
Even as I pray along with my Holy Bible
