We two, like vine fruits in the wine press
are brewed by hands that embrace dirt,
tasted by lips crushed by lying kisses
bottled in same transparent can
of bottled hatred.

We two, like vine fruits made wine
are uncorked by hands shaken by distrust
sipped by lips that lisp sad songs
by men drunk in love
with damsels they never had.

We thought we were wine
brewed from the best of vine
but we're just alcohol.
Mankind sip and wince
then smile as we sink
to calm their storm

We steal their today's
and veil their sorrows in a belch.
But not their tomorrows-
that, we cannot take.
Because same sour stories that stir their gale
one by one play back the sad tales once again.

- Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu

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