Busy giant pugilist I gree,
On it I will acid with greece,
When the mortal I see,
In the slimy mood of ease.
I tear apart the envelope of jinx,
Which sent to vice the freeze,
I stand out from the mass,
Which was citated from my boss.
There I remember the voice in the womb,
Which gave me a line of thread,
Which gave me a stemsil of tomb,
In amalgamation with sliced bread.
My might they can't conquer,
Which moves the giant,
My worth they can't be a thinker,
Which disseminate their secret ant;
My joy they can't fuse,
Which breway my effluence.
HOW WILL I SUFFER?
ADENRELE ADEBAYO OLUSEGUN
 300
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HOW WILL I SUFFER?
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