The Food Of Death Poem by Michael Eziudo

She's dead at soul by your deadly food
She'd prayed her body parts dismembered than as stood
But dies daily daunted by your brood
As alone she nurses her pains by no ears to cry to
Her love slain and hopes and wishes dashed

Her egg-shaped eyes coloured red
As the big balls pumping off their sockets seek vengeance
Her bodies unjustly turned-on, torn and bruised like a bait to save all women
But she's only she bearing the pains and shedding tears of all women
Her inability to foster vengeance kills her more than your inhumanity to human with no remorse

Alas! She prays silently unconsciously at heart
As her soul bleeds like worse than the tree with a painful cut
Could the money paid equal turn fleshes and bruised face,
Organ of pleasure torn for wicked pleasure, my God, my mother, she cries in all measure
Had I taken a wrong step to love, a wrong choice when I announced ‘I do' Oh! Indeed, what a treasure

Shall I get all of my heart and pour it all on God
Or is anybody listening, does anybody hear my silent tacit outcry with cold tears
That I may pour it all on your shoulder and save myself quick journey to the grave by bleeding cancer
Are all human not one of a kind and shan't a trust on any be a twist from hot plate to fire
I better die in silence as I see non as good of all man and death a saving grace, console of the helpless