Myself And Mother. Poem by Innocent Timburwa

When i was a kid,
When i cry my mother comforted me.
When i want to sleep she ussualy beck me,
When i am hungry she could give me food.

But as i grew up,
Things are different now.
If i do anything similar to what i used to do,
Hiiiiiiiiiiii my God.

Instead of comfort me when i cry,
She take a steak to beat me, Thus shutting me up.
If i sleep she leaves me in the Kicthen.

If i am hungry,
She just points some pots for me.
If their is no ready food,
She just ask me if i know where she keep the stuff.

That shows me that i am old enough to look for myself.
If she continues doing everything for,
She will be killing me.

Happy i am mature out of her tactical trainning.