If you don’t feed me
You can at least let me be me
My sex bowl should not be your tongue twister
And my empty womb should not make you turn into a trickster
Selling convincing words to lazeabouts
To glove them with hatred to hold me in ridiculous bouts

If you don’t feed me
At least you need to let me be me
Your daughter who is now a family rag
Can never make me feel a spinster tag
Neither can that niece of yours who has turned into a man mason
…make me marry your hopeless Jason
The woman whose marriage fetches her punches
And the other neighbour whose cheating husband buys her fat munches
Are no catchy examples to buy me shame
So don’t you think your tactics make you lame?

If you don’t feed me
You can at least let me be me
The potholes in your own heart
Should be filled and not covered with a hat
While you while away time projecting your shame on me
It makes you look like a broken bird crying down a sky
…to make all birds look suspicious in its lie
Before falling to its death for all to see

Your energy is not mine
But spare me as cast in your filming line
Your time is not mine
But spare me as clock in your gossip dine
Your tongue is not mine
But spare me as a mouth roaming morsel swimming in your wine
Your voice is not mine
But I’d rather I’m no lyrics in those words of thine
If you don’t feed me
If you really do not feed me
Pray, at least, let me be me
…in this life of mine
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © May 4, 2021

By amoafowaa

Just a simple Ghanaian trying to find the best in our society. I may be fun, I may be interesting, I may be funny, I may even be foolish or intelligent, but it is all based on the mood in which you find yourself. I believe our minds make us who we are. Know that, pain, no matter its 'unbearability', is transient. Unburden or delight yourself for a while in my writings please. And all corrections, advice and opinions are welcome. Know that you are the king, queen or royal on this blog. :)

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