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Juvenile Deliquency

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HATTHORN

We look from gloom couldn't see afore worried we became Eccentric and despondency became our friend We couldn't see They unveiled and hat on We rejoiced and merry Alas! A thorn in hat Erosion of blood gully down We bath in our room of agony We slept on a bed of stone We dine with our sorrow ©oladecious
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LEEWAY

How will I enter  When all are choristers Pitching high in silence Wearing smiles of faces Their piece I listen in attention Rhythm like the hiss of adder Song of freedom I thought. Pains as stanza agony as chorus, Gay as coda. Conductor they will but not disobey  'ducting stanzas, chorus and coda. Bewildered I gaze as one unconscious Why will I enter and celibate
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NYSC

My Journey to Bayelsa My journey to Bayelsa began on the day I printed my call-up letter, which serves as a pass to enter the main camp. Coincidentally, my travel coincided with a period of fuel scarcity in the country, particularly in Lagos, which led to a surge in transportation costs. However, I was fortunate to encounter favorable circumstances on my way to Bayelsa, my deployment state. 
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