...
....
.....if you truly searched and found me not
for five weeks.
I'm sorry 'cos..
I fed little or no poetry.
stories are meant for the tellers
this, as accorded :
my muse bled painstakingly
I wasn't just robbed
my gadgets were too.
At first, I spoke like a goon
identity forgone, fear has risen
on my scale of actions.
Even though the mirror hurts
later found the reincarnated me
feeling once more, the childhood I left.
Assault in rounds of slap
beaten to pulp, factually , no bandages .
my diary explains more while time lapses
indeed it was a witness
I nearly lost my mind
after loosing some utterances
Cat and dogs ran, I feared to live.
They dare not come to my rescue
I'm no tatterdemalion! non adheres,
some thought I was begging for alms,
left inbound like a stray ?? .
Thank holiness,
pejoratively, there exists no male urchin
I was there in the street, weeping like a stream
still, they believe the gold digger hath come.
Men ain't faulty,
little do they know about faults
even I lost all hope
here I am, life is still
my naked ??