Martins Akhoeneto


The Usurpation - Poem by Martins Akhoeneto

Don't kill me, I beg of you
Have pity on my infant soul
Please, I play a billion role
In my home and family too
I've sang in a thousand word
All to your blood-obsessed sword
I've sent please of many kinds
All to appease your guiltless mind
Please appreciate the mighty heaven
Who did not slain you before seven


O' blood-stricken, you curse yourself
For the soul you just took
Was suppose to bring palm wine and elf
For your daughter in the greatest hook
And take her for a bride
I will warn you not to cry
At forty when she lost her pride
Or pray for these omens to die
When she finds no door, to any room
For that blood from your slain
Was her earthly-made groom
Which shall be a cause after your reign

Topic(s) of this poem: nature


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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, January 26, 2016

Poem Edited: Tuesday, January 26, 2016


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