I'm a pawn waging war against an orge
I'm a prisoner enclosed behind this frail wall of flesh
With every passing minute, my grip
Loosened on its flexible crystal pole,
The sensitive flesh of my palm singed
By its illusory gobs of bile,
My arms quake, as if it embodies the very core of chills,
The stoop of my shoulder bled forth
The salty water of fate
My once sturdy feet jellified as I tried
To stomp my way out of this flimsy
Dyke of plumpness
I screamed till my voice went hoarse
I cried till my wail turned to a poignant din
The determination on my face tainted
By the oozing talons of weariness
Mocking my spry effort of freedom
Huffing and puffing, I fought to win
This senseless tug of war
I thought I would get victory
Alas! My heart vanquished me instead.
Written by; Busayomi Alabi
Hmmm! This one from Buzzzzy my padi. As I go through the poem, all that keeps buzzing in my head is that you are trying hard to adapt to the transformation you are going through. And I mean being an expectant mother after the "Eko Hotel" Milk we had. It's a nice piece all the same. Well delivered.
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