“The less said about Life’s sores, the better.” – Oscar Wilde

Life’s sores have been around
Still will till Christ comes back to go no more
However we might care to wish it away
She still runs wild with no care

Some stalk, then forcefully pounce-
Certain ones saunter or crawl by,
Tearing up flesh; others harvesting man’s defense.
Even if ambushed, sores never die.

Subtle sores attack the psyche
Make humans reel in pain like boozed touts.
Some man-up; others give up – lose their will to try,
Echoing Job’s wife: “Curse God and die!”

Born in EDEN by man’s fall
These sores have long lived
Trace not yours to-
A neighbor, an In-law, a sister or workmate.

All have sores.
Sores! Sores! Sores!
From waters, in the air, on land-
Through insects, parasites, reptiles –
Epidemics, Flu, Influenza – sores spread.

Life’s sores – exaggerated by some
Other times minimized by faith
Like wise Oscar said, “Talk less of them…”
Else they’ll ruin you before Ruin comes.

© Ndidi Ugo-Nkwoala. 2019. Spilledwoords

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