I took a rectangular card,

And Division occurred,

One turned into four.

Making four regular cards,

A triangle was my knowledge at fore.

On the first,

I wrote west.

On the next,

I wrote east.

The third was pinned down to the table,

 under my fist.

I took pressure off it,

For the pen, 

I made it fit.

With the pen,

on it I wrote north.

I glowered at the card, fourth.

Then I wrote south.

Deep down,

I thought I was making my cards more.

I wished someone had popped up with a frown,

And told me that I was adding salt to my sore.

That, this that I was doing might cause pain.

I am hard hearted by the way,

not every word can make my decisions go soft.

The wind came,

It blew it all off.

I held unto one card,

Losing three.

The wind had taken three cards off.

If I had an undivided card.

It would have been too hard,

To loose.

The wind might have taken non off.

now I am mad at my self,

my heart is soiled and fused.

┬ęGodwin Okhuoya