Background
Where I found myself
As a toddler causes me anguish
And quenches the fire he sets burning
He the father of us all
Those asleep and those ready to sleep
All I see and hear are words
Which demolishes current like hearts
Mine was no exception
Born with many words
But none to write
As pen we no longer see
My father sighs at the news
I know not why
He curses and rains abuses
On whom I know not
Maybe on that fowl
That threw away the last cup of water
In our household
Or maybe the rat
That ate our week’s meal
I believe he knows better
For he talks faster than I do
Even the gods are angry with
Whoever he rains abuses on
They have stopped the rain
And dried our farms
The sins of just a few
Have crippled us all
I heard my father say
Until he brings back all he took
He must chase protruding bellies in
Like my pregnant self
With numbered and named rips
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