THIS PLACE
'Another type of hell' I should call this place
But, I don't know. Do you?
If hell gets hotter every blessed day.
Please tell if you've got any clue.
Perhaps it's our own special hell.
But I can't say. Can you?
For we can always escape here
Although for that, there's no guarantee
Developed she's not, underdeveloped too
But developing? I'm not sure
Look around and take a cue,
This backwardness, there's probably no cure
I'm trying to be better,
I trust the same applies to you
But what can we say about this glorified pacesetter?
The supposed giant we are stuck with that's racing towards an adieu...
When you stare into this blank space ahead
Do you feel hopeful for her or
Are you filled with dread?
Because the future looks blur
Pray for the passage of this phase
because if she ends up dead,
We'd all go six feet down with ease
and then that'd be an expected end.
©Akinwole John Akintayo.
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If you must use rhythm in your poetry, you have to be consistent with whatever pattern you choose.