Abiku

ÀBÍKÚ Àbíkú, This is the 21st century, Going and coming isn’t a game, Nor does it give you fame. Àbíkú, Please come no more Mother’s breast is already thick like an iron Every tears we dropped, the land sucks Father said; Dear Àbíkú I’ve got no farm to harvest yam, I sold it all to always keep you alive. This is your sixteenth death, all my royal chevrons are tattered Come and stay as a female, so you understands mothers pain. Why Àbíkú? Why do you chose us as your prey? Àbíkú, the son of Dúrójayé Forgive our wrongs and make your home "Ilé Ayé". Poet Olajire Damilola Muyideen (SmilingPen) ® Right Reserved