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On the palms of my yesterday
My today stood bruised in pain
Song-less tomorrow mock me
I could not sing the song I sang
When he went into me very elated.


Let me tell you a sinful story
with my righteous mouth:
My flower was taken from me
When my sister married a new husband
who watched me lustfully at all time.


That night, in the lyrics of his reading eyes 
I read pamphlet of uncontrolled emotion
When he firmly grabbed me to wet his
burning flesh, sister was away from home
In the canoe of humiliation, he went astray
To satisfy his longing sturdy manhood.


I listen not to the midnight whistle of the owls
As the night howled and rumbled so did my soul
All my ears could receive was his excitement
He made me lost in the short journey of sorrow
He made a plastered road of agony not a page; 
A page where every hand can close and open.


I cuddled the night  alone as he snored
I watched the moon hidden above the sky
The stars retired immediately to their abode
This is another song that reminds me of
cruelty of men against helpless maidens 
Another song yet to be sung among songs.


If only my road was plastered with love
Tears like river won't fall in this diary.



(C) John Chizoba Vincent
      Voice Of Vincent 2016

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