To many, I am an illusion;
To some, an allusion.
You see, words are my toys,
And writing my pastime.
When I reach out,
I come swinging,
Like a wrecking ball,
Not to damage
But to make whole
Through entropy.
I am hard to follow,
Difficult to understand,
Complex to size,
Impossible to comprehend:
Your last Gambian unicorn—
Straight like an arrow,
Fast like lightning,
Cool like sea breeze,
Strong like a nail,
Peaceful like a dove,
But I can sting like a bee.
My mental ability is out of this world.
My wisdom is of the celestial bodies.
You want me when you don’t have me,
When you have me you despise me.
I ‘m like a tsetse fly on a scrotum,
You approach me with caution;
Like a mad woman dangling a baby,
You negotiate with me.
I am that enigma—
The quintessential sane insane.
I blow both cold and hot,
I can cry and smile at the same time,
I can launder and iron at the same time,
I can drum and scratch my butt at the same time.
I am the truth you seek, the falsehood you live.
I am the reality in your mirage,
The strength in your weakness,
The security in your vulnerability,
And the calm in your crises:
Your last Gambian unicorn.
