Creative Writing Group- Oranmore
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Death of the Oracle. By Ikenna Anyabuike. They tiiied hiiis hands. Cuffed hiiis priiide. iiit was not hiiis body they despiiised. Deformed as iiit was. Nor hiiis miiind. iiit was hiiis eyes For they saw all. They saw the truth. They saw the liiies. They saw even hiiis neiiighbours demiiise Yet he was the oracle. iiit was a curse he had never asked for. He wanted to be accepted, But hiiis fate lacked normaliiity, hiiis miiind lacked reason to questiiion the brutaliiity he would face at the hands of people that called themselves hiiis friiiends. That diiid not matter. He diiid not push agaiiinst the uniiivereses decree. For now they were takiiing hiiim to hang. Yet he showed no fear, Hiiis soul was crystal clear, The earth diiid not driiink a siiingle tear. For he saw the past present and future. Diiid you not hear? An oracle has three eyes my dear