By the moon, the stars and my beingI promise to not let you suffer as you haveI promise to always put you first Because
Oh death, Inevitability is your trait. Pain your fruit, Life is your stem… I felt the lips of droplets, On my flesh as
The wind whispers the unspoken wordsThe tongue aches of words not utteredThe mind and heart flutter at the scent of himOoh cupid you have
What will happen when winter rolls inWill you blossom in color or wither like the rest What will happen when summer rolls in Will
So many women have died at the hands of their loved ones, because African sociatal status taught them that once you are married you have to endure whatever comes with marriage. Even if it means facing death by the hands of the one who took an oath to love, protect and cherish you .
This is in memory of those who died at the hands of their partners.
Mommy doesn’t know you yet I haven’t seen your face, nor have I touched you but one thing I know for sure is
The poem below questions self from all that he/she has went through, questioning one of why he/she wanted to commit suicide. The poem is