Waiting

Taunted, abused and blamed, For their mistakes for which I was framed Caned, yelled at and flogged, But was my innocence ever proved? You caned me and boasted, My son, my bad son I have flogged, Severally, now a reformed son he is, But little known is this wound hard to heal. You never realise we don't talk, Make stories, side by side walk, You never think of how sick I feel, About your present-absence and how slow I heal. I feel lonely and abandoned, In a dark space with no shades, I hear the roars of lions, And the whoops and grunts, I feel weak and vulnerable. Dear dad, I will be waiting, Waiting, Waiting for you here shivering, In this open space, in this darkness.