A WOMAN’S PRIDE IN THE GUTTER

Pity messed with her head

As glittering living urged him on

His ego was tingled by passion

As his eyes strayed from her

 

Was it her apparel?

Could it be that her flowers are wilting?

What could it be?

These and many more walked in an excursion on her mind

 

Her resolves were none

Seeing as her rival, like a bloated loaf

Walked like a zombie in an unfamiliar ground,

Her pride  and heart sustained the highest degree of burns

 

She left a thousand times

Through many speeches prepared only for him in her mind

But words flew to an unreachable tree

When his face graced her environment

 

“Go, if you can’t,

A man must prove he is a man by owning many”

With sweat stepping on  her burns,

She left to her roots

 

Months hardly walked into the house of a year

And his knees, as his feet, painfully crawled

To her root, a palm in a palm

Tears streaming down his face

 

All she had to show was her scar

But her scar was not visible

As the heart hid comfortably in its enclave

So the elders pushed her into an abyss of death

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2014