They only come to come.

To empty their vessels of troubles.

Some a twin, some whole.

5,6,7 a day, they come.

Business boom for me is my life’s doom.

Me, a tank of gloom.

I bear their burdens.

Their pleasure is my pain.

I bear their burdens,

Nameless and sometimes faceless dudes.

I bear their burdens.

Some thank me at the deposit of their burden.

In their gratitude is relief.

Temporary relief from the world’s troubles.

They return in a fortnight for another deposit.

Is the world so trouble-filled?

They come, they go.

I never seem to change.

I do not belong to their world — or so it seems.

I am their saviour,

But only at dusk.

They criticise me at dawn.

All of them,

As if it is spirits that come at dusk.

They will not accept me as I am.

So I need a saviour,

In whom I can empty my vessel.

A saviour who will accept me as I am.

A temporary saviour have I been to my Nicodemus visitors.

Now a permanent saviour I seek,

And I will bring the associates of Nicodemus to the saviour at dawn.

When will my saviour take me as I am?

Akinsiwaju also writes at www.akinteachesenglish.com