CRY YOUR OWN CRY You call yourself a man, don't you? You clench your fist and boom on her face; That now imprints red scars as if they were blush. At the sight of you she trembles like a soul that has come face to face with death. Her tear bags have even run dry for too much of its content it has given. Never enough was she for you. To meet your insatiable needs was all she wanted to. On her tender flesh you mastered your punching skills. Your bed has thus become a boxing ring. After which you thrust in her. Have you forgotten? Life was immersed in you by her kind. Through immeasurable pain she bore you an heir. Her love for you was deep and pure. And closely she held on hoping the monster you had become will one day be silenced. But really how sad cos in her fantasies this long lived and hence buried. You left her blue to solely man your abode and feed your own. Unending answers she gives to the unknown she even questions herself, to fill in the void of her ever asking offspring about the sudden no sight of Papa. Cry your own cry!!! Brother For you is an excuse of a man. Busari Amidat hameedatbusari@gmail.com