wordings of the soul

Femme Douler By Uketui Anthony

POSTED 02/27/2018 18:25
3125 Reads Femme Douler By Uketui Anthony, Poetry on Tushstories
Leaving my bedside, I felt a sour pain,
It was my neck, it felt really rigid,
Stumbling on my bunk, I felt a bitter pain,
My toes were badly hurt, the pain was rigid,
I seemed to be obsessed with hazards and dangers,
I seemed to experience every possible pain,
My body parts felt totally like strangers,
Daily experiencing injuries and bloodstains,
Different thoughts danced in my head,
Dancing to the tune of my current situation,
What of women? This Triggered from a previous book I had read,
They really went through a lot, at least compared to my situation,
With pain I write this,
With sober and gloom I write this sad story,
To all the Mrs. and miss,
To all those formed from our ribs, it’s your story
From prologue to preface, here is chapter one,
Punished for deceit, they had painful childbirths,
This experience is merely an understatement to prickly thorns,
This condition has led many to their deaths,
Still on the first chapter,
I forgot about the nine-month period,
The carriage alone seems tiring, but the aftermath brings joy and laughter,
They received light kicks and blows from their unborn
They really encircled around pain,
Over to the second chapter,
Most are deprived of education,
Except most who are given kitchen education,
They become trained in servitude, good attitude, and cooking in the highest altitude,
Turning to chapter three,
They are considered as weak and termed liabilities,
This in total suppresses their abilities,
Torn apart, they growl in pain,
Here goes the second to the last chapter
And my most miserable chapter.
They are all tagged as sex items,
Pleasure tools, as they become victims of rape,
Still on this chapter,
They become ashamed of their body,
They rethink of their gender,
They questioned their body,
Apart from pleasure what could it render?
Finally the last chapter,
They are all discriminated,
They can’t lead, only to be led,
They can’t express their feelings without bleeding,
They can’t talk in public without showing dread
This all boils down to discrimination
Before the epilogue, I’ll give a short dirge,
This being for the lost and dead egos’ of our women, it goes thus,
From our ribs they were made,
They ensured continuity of life,
And passed through rebounding pain and strife,
All this cos of an apple or rather a serpent
Choked with tears from their eyes they become unable to repent,
They become tagged as shameful and, remorseless,
Their egos were lost, their lifestyle was deemed eccentric,
They had become victims of discrimination,
The dirge ends, the epilogue begins
All were created in the same image thus,
Women are we men,
They are our reflection and our perfection,
Mothers are like a caring hen,
Well trained daughters are like fruitful grape trees,
Which at the end produces vino,
The story ends here,
So to all miss and Mrs. do be thankful,
For your gender,
For you ensure life continuity, expansion and lastly motivation
Once again you’re reflection and perfection,
Cause we men are women,

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