Ayoola Goodyness Olanrewaju wwrites

an ear

last night...

i was an ear
punctured
by the holes of filthiness
severed
by the teeth of saw-ants...

i was an ear
torn
like a song nailed on the cross of cacophonies
crushed
like a virgin rose tramped under hurried feet
and bruised by her own thorns...

without a face
without the songs of goodbye
to mother and her tales of tortures
to my twin sister on the other side
struggling for life...

and before i died
i became the wooden gossip in the heart of the shelf
a victim of blames...

i became
what the book said in the book
an ear without a saviour
an ear who killed her mother
and divulged her secret of blood.
 
 Rose And Thorns -- Ronda Richley