Dear Anímáshaun,

God created you in his own image.

But in your quest for utopia,

You got robbed by Báyò. Olá. Emeka

What about Túndé?

The one who grinded your heart into molecules,

And fed the pieces to his demons of insecurities;

He ignored you like the Americans

Ignore the letter T!

Look at you now,

No, look at what is actually left of you

Nothing but a mimicry

Of what used to be.

Are you still a spitting replica of God’s image?

It is time to rise up and walk back

To the dawn of your days,

To recollect the you of your yesterday.

You were beautifully and wonderfully made.