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?
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