Genital Mutilation
They made death a saint
With their sword and powder
As they butchered her silly;
Her sweet bean was their bile.
Rudely they moved their razor
To the natural point she ever prided
And slashed it like carrot
Her cone they laid on another tatters;
Massaging their pride with her sinless blood.
Then they brought out their ageless gourd
And poured out their satanic powder
Upon her bleeding scar -
Like spice on their bar-be-cue.
Though loudly she cried,
The mean were not samarithan.
Copyright © Kayod5 Kayode | Year Posted 2015
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