You stand at the crossroads of middle age and old age
Asking questions not meant for a sage
Thinking the one you’re searching for is in a cage
Meant to be opened by a godly adage on a sacred stage
You know the answer that can turn your page
II
‘Where are the virgins?’ You ask
They are frozen in your past
At the juncture where your youthful exuberance yoked with lust
Forced an erection which hurt many a pride without direction
Those virgins died within selves determined to keep piety with rejections
…which had no protection
You were like a rock hurling itself without a lock
Look at who fate’s rock deems fit to mock
III.
‘Where are the virgins?’ You ask
They died on grounds your eyes sat
With ridicule dancing on lenses as they peered like many a bat
It was you and your group who turned cats
To chase and hunt those virginities like mice and rats
So go and choose the bodies whose juices you stole
In order to have a semblance of humanity goal
And stop asking questions like an ignoramus on a hunt
Because your wishes are really in a can’t
None plants pepper to harvest salt
These ears definitely won’t
…listen as you pretend to forget your fault
Life gives you what you invest in your youth
Know this Mr. Man
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © November 20, 2022
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