Woe, Owe and Vow

Umpteen timesHave I been foodAnd at times preyTo a man’s hunger,Now who is your father. Once in a month, three daysMy womb weptTears of bloodTill the day you sprouted And I graduated fromA private shame to aPublic honour. Not as easy as a fruit that can be pluckedNot as easy as an egg to layContinue reading “Woe, Owe and Vow”

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