My story is gory
It is not in hurry
It is in the air we breathe
My story passes always before men
It waves at their stoic
And patience is its virtue
My story died in redress
It was assassinated in court
It died in the eyes of the judge
My story was seduced to death
By the little fire in the mouth
It parted at the sight of mournful witnesses
It was altered at the shout of order
It became my bride at the sight of bribe
I married it to feed my eyes
It's never complacent with its fluidic food
Which hurts my Iris
And beds it in pains
My story is my heart's curry
It will not scurry
Until every heart worry
My story is a dove
Whose dog died from inception
It's every form of inhumanity that breathes on earth
(c)EKWUEME KC
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem