Tick of Truth

 

By Ojo Victoria Ayoolajesu

You claim the press has beef to pick,

But hear us out, the clock goes tick.

We listen close, we heed your call,

Yet you insist we hear not at all.

You say you know them—those who run,

Yet flaws? You mention entirely none.

No one’s perfect, that we see,

So tell me now—how well do we?

Press nights come, should we embrace?

Or smile and soften every case?

The seat they seek has thorns and pain,

Not just the roses they hope to gain.

Our words are thorns, sharp yet wise,

Our questions? Roses in disguise.

You should have answers—stand up tall,

Not just bask in praises’ call.

We worry for you, while you stand blind,

Cheering your friends, their faults denied.

You say we strike with bias grand,

But do you listen, or just withstand?

Before you claim we mean attack,

Reflect, and take a moment back.

People judge by what they’d do—

So tell me now, does this fit you?