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Welcome to Tobi Akinpelu's Page. I write Poems, Fiction and Software engineering. Join our newsletter.
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There is a beaker cup, With a measurement scale. Then the wine pours to 99%, clop sound. From the invisible, do you want more? What would I be doing, if I don’t get more. So, rather than a clop. It was an outpouring. Went from a beaker, to a spring 0 to 100. No more land, spring to lake. Lake to Ocean. No more land still. Pouring me, till when the earth starts to drop wine from its single eye.