A Maiden's Plight Poem by Folayemi Akande

Thou've strangled to death joy that once was mine
With thy undying rage that never quench.
With less love and more hate, thou maketh a shrine
From thy bowel, which unpleasantly stench.

Thy competence lies within thy fury's bane;
Such knowledge, thee possess of all things.
What man in mortal form to cruelty fain?
Then behind his bow and spear his clout doth leans.

Thy deeds art unbeseeming of thy looks
They're like the rivers that lords the fishe'
But within, billows a twirl that heads them to the hooks
So doth thy wrath, when up'n crust you unleash.

I beseech thee, be temperate as a stone
That's beneath the sea, and make me ne'er groan.