Scathe Poem by tolu ogundare
Scathe
man's hands, his mirror
for the hand does not lie
neither does it act of its own
your venture, my worries...
since the first day you peeped
at the rotten world
through the window
of that television screen
you soiled your eyes with passion
till your heart had its fill
then you realized
that the hand does not act of its own
it simply does as it is told to do
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/4/2024 4:38:21 PM # 1.0.0.1119
