The road was long, very long, so long. <br />The journey was tough, the kicks, the punches, <br />Stake, in the most sacred, hiding part of a woman. <br />Cudgels not for thieves and kidnapers, <br />Descending on the innocent head of a damsel. <br />Can you watch the dancing steps? <br />Can you see my tears flow as I am recalling? <br />No arm around my shoulders, no whispers of it is well <br />As I punch my sorrow on these helpless keys. <br />A forlorn look on my face, <br />A hopeless thought in my heart: wake up big sis <br />Can you share my pains? Can you feel the aches? <br />I mean the one in my heart, not the attending migraine. <br />I cannot punch these keys any more... <br />They are not the culprits, we are; <br />Victims victimizing victims. Who wrote that? <br />I cannot remember. Wole Soyinka or Chinua Achebe <br />Not that I really care who, in this my demented moment <br />The choice of diction neither do I care. <br />Lions will not kill for fun, <br />What do will kill for? In war and in peace, <br />We kill but cannot eat. Humans, I mean, not goats.<br /><br />Stephen Olufemi Omolara<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/beast-in-the-cities/
