5th August, 2016 Writers

I am the woman

The one you see everyday of your seemingly joyful life

I am the wife you married

The mother that bore you

The sister that shared the same means of entrance into this world you have so claimed to be yours

I'm the girl you pick on when I'm alone

I'm the girl you wink at when with your friends

I am the woman

The one you toiled so hard to pay a price for

The one you sat all night writing love notes to while listening to Marvin Gay in your 'self contained' hut

The stubborn daughter of a strict father who would rather sneak to see you with the bigger portion of her mother's bitter leaf soup forgetting that the consequences was not washed away with the bitterness of the leaf

I am the woman

The cook of your food

The satisfaction of your pleasure

The bearer of your children, the ones you've carried in your loins since you were born

The owner of the breast they suckle on

The keeper of your home

The neck of your head

But now I'm just a woman

The one you no longer recognise

The punching bag in your boxing ringĀ 

The football that shows off your kicking skills

The ears that checks your mic

The heart you rip at night and wish would go extinct

I'm a woman with scars of scary nights

A woman with memories of teary days

A woman ripped of value and true essence

A woman with bruises on her knees

I'm a ripped jean

But this will be my strength

This will be a story to be told

This will be my speech

When I mount the stage on ripped jean.

Abuja, Nigeria
  • Everyone rocks a good jean but there's always a story behind the ripped jean.

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