She pants and frets,
Investigates his authenticity and gets
Nervous, sees a little bad air hovering and runs like a scared little pet
She settles in her cocoon of darkness, ignoring the many bets
On her, then tries to forget
But the scorned man calls her a man eater
A man eater who is not a good beater
A man eater who cannot roar
And does not have strong paws, fangs nor obvious instinct for blood
While she purrs like a scared little hungry lost cat in the dark
All mouths connive to give her a beating
All fingers meet and agree to point to one direction, hers, in a sitting
Even her most treasured parts, give her a whipping
Yet she has no ill thoughts but a yearning
To be heard and parted on the back and told, it’s alright; everything
But the scorned man calls her a man eater
A man eater who is not a good beater
A man eater who cannot roar
And does not have strong paws, fangs nor obvious instinct for blood
While she purrs like a scared little hungry lost cat in the dark
Just look keener for a moment
Before the comments form and pour in horrible torrents
Not all lurking pain peeks through beautiful garments
Sometimes, smooth assuring words are potent
Than humans’ tongues of serpents
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2014.
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