Godwin Clement


My Travails

I eat beyond the yield of my crop,
And I didn't pick the dirt I drop.
My children are treated no more than a maid,
Yet I didn't clear the mess I made.

Now something so tiny is swelling deep inside of me,
I tried to resist it, yet can't seem to break free.
It is that latent baby beast, that slowly grows into a monster,
Into a deadly ferocious monster.

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