The Girl On A Swing Poem by Oluwatobi David Omotayo

I have a story to tell
I have to sound an important bell.

Will you please listen to my struggling voice
And hear my ill experiences from the evil boys.

At seven, I was defiled by the one I called father
At nine, I was raped by the one I called brother.

At fifteen, I was molested by the one I called teacher
At twenty, from a threat of failure, I slept with my lecturer.

Today, I flee from home
When my nephew asked me to come.

Here on the swing, I want to string
Maybe it will swing me up to the heavenly king.

Oh, Dear Swing! Don't swing me back to the earth
Freeze at the top, and feed me with manna until my death.