Girl-Child. Poem by Bieze Josphat

Girl-Child.



Girl-child.
They brutally cut
Our pimple of sensation
Tampering with
A woman's ignition.
They screw our innocence
With fleshy needles
Bloody signature
And painful cries
Go unanswered
In the circle
Of men elders
Passing judgement
To the owner of the
Breast they suckled.
Wine brewed by
A woman irrigating
Their corrupt throats
And roasted ribs
Pillowing the flowing Wine.
What justice do
We expect from
The circle if we
Are not part of it?
Arise fellow women
We own the circle too
Our wombs that host
Them, our breast that
Fed them, are more circular
Than testicles
But we allowed them
Milk us for long
Until they deformed
Our circular breast.
Should they deform
Our wombs too?
Enough is enough!

Tuesday, October 21, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: sad
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