Either PRETTY or GREAT
Just as a means of reminiscing on old moments, gathering flashbacks that one never prayed for but just happened based on "destiny", although overrated.
As a boy from poor home, where the mother was just a petty trader with irregular income and the father an Islamic cleric with no apparent source of income leaving the children at Ill-fated fates, just be who you wanna be.
I could remember having friends of same caliber, we never ate till satisfaction with many looking malnourished like marasmic patients. We just couldn't differentiate between nutrition and diet, food is food so far the stomach if full
We played under the moonlights with only pants on running around the locals making the police-and-thief game catch. We were always present in all forms of local games from monini to bojuboju to the night fairy tales always told by grandpa whenever he visited the city.
We only saw children of rich background in moving cars, we never had anything in common. Our schools - government owned and free of charge, where we sat on earth to receive lessons, not just spanked but seriously tortured by some wicked teachers who go about the school with bundle of canes.
What we would be we never thought about. Only the rich owned the social class, became our thoughts. Our fathers had no vehicles but we fabricated one ourselves through the use of close-up paste paper pack, making beer covers the tyres, dragging them about with attached rubber used in plaiting hair.
There is now hope to be great, to be who society wanted us to be, either pretty or great.
ACETYLATED
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