In Arms Poem by Wilson Tinotenda Waison

Sister turns her back on me
Father disclaim this progeny
Mamma to take my verge
I am in arms, begin to ponder
Contemplations pull the query
Am I his blood? I am lost

Sister to strangle me
Father on her route
A blot on escutcheon is am
With no way to abscond, detachment rule
The demand still moulds
Am I his blood? I am lost

In her green eyes I am a schemer
As I am always erroneous
I failed them and discredited
Yet mother comforts, sister back stabs
I vomit blood as he cheer
Division reigns, in arms