The Woman

Yes, I am a woman They say I bring good omen. Yet, I am stifled as a foetus and consumed as negus. As a girl, there is no respite My molesters have their collars coloured white. Shall I speak or shall I engulf in myself what I perceive For to render aside humanity and brutality there is no such sieve. No clouds would set asunder; No rain would come to heal. I know I would be engulfed in the thunder and my life would be left unbloomed Yet I ask this world For what fault am I punished When you cherish and blossom; why is my life unfurnished?