A Father's Word Poem by Patrick Akhudu

My son, listen carefully
I, your father
Suffered in their hideous hands.
Your new found allies
Are cruel criminals!
They will rob your life.

Son, this mark
That sullies my forehead,
Is ‘Woman-snatcher's doing! .
Telling him daylight-truth,
That he treads on deadly ground
Invited his steel hands
To defile my innocent face.

Son, your buddies
Are mean murderers!
Shake not their hands
They'll kill your tomorrow
And burry your dreams.

Son, take my word:
Dine not with the soiled
And secure your tomorrow;
Feed on my wisdom:
To fortify your worth.

My son, do not walk
The road of evil,
I, your father,
Followed a clean path.