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Tears Of A Broken Child

I didn’t know stories could be written on the skin 

with my blood as ink and whips as pen.

Not until my aunt began writing on my body 

Each day, leaving everlasting marks for me to look at

And have a glance at the past 

Gruesome nights keeps me awake, 

With thoughts of home plaguing my forlorned heart 

Laughters of my siblings echoing, haunting my ears 

Hagriding memories of mama hovering around me 

Hunger sits by my bedside, 

humming lullabies that do not lull. 

The break of dawn calls for my break down 

As rashes and patches made my body their abode 

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My laughter sounds like an outcry 

The chirping birds are my soothing balm 

The river in my eyes are dried up 

my body smells of pains that the vultures would detest my carcass 

My soul needs a place of rest beyond six feet below 

But before my rest please take me home.

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