I Write

I write To tell the story of the woman whose eyes bleed with pains Whose virginity was robbed away and is being treated with disdain Yet her tongue has been left in painful stillness Leaving her at the mercies of phantom observers testifying as her witness I write… I write Yes I write the story of the virgin heart whose innocence left it vulnerable The one that was shepherd in ignorance To love and love with no turning back Once held in high esteem on concreted ground And now deserted in swampy mud I write…   I write To unravel the story of the robber who was lynched who was born in a broken cage The one who was never tamed by a fathers rage And was never at the mercies of a loving mothers cane Leaving his fate to the emblem ‘do or die’ strive to survive in the tiring voyage of life I write… I write The story of the prostitute you just patronized The one you met on her very first night Who you bargained over her spotless pride And paid without blinking an eye Smiled…. You will come back to ‘it’ another time I write…   I write The story of the single mother whose husband passed away mysteriously Who never smiles because of a blood stained teeth Whose children wait upon her return to feed Getting no help from supposed family Yet over her husband’s properties family compete I write… I write Of the president who was aborted be a teenage mother Whose father would have been a notorious gang leader Or a shameless defiling step father The one who was deprived of the challenges of this world And was drowned in its mothers streaming tears I write…   I write! Yes I write these stories with wet eyes With quivering fingers On its readers heart creed I write… Offering my tongue to the voiceless My eyes to the sightless and my heart to the heartless I write… Yes I write! and I write not glorious bright Nor gloomy night But I write Yes I write what you think or may not think is right But I write…
Profile photo of Tawiah Aboagye

Tawiah Aboagye

I'm cool and Poetic, Author of the play The African Within.

Skip to toolbar