In the dead of the night I stay put,
Gazing at the dark sky,
Perhaps I'll see a falling meteor,
That perhaps will restore joy to my troubled soul,
Or at least shine a ray of light in my dreams,
In the darkness,
Owls and crickets dominates the night,
Fear grips my being he is back.
Night after the other he creeps in my room,
Tiptoes to my almost falling bed,
His rough hands on my thighs,
An act always dreaded for,
During the day,
He is the caring alhaji,
Granting coins each time mama Chinedu comes in,
Into the kitchen for a chicken bite he sends,
He loves when mama Obinna calls him loving,
After he draws water from their wall,
In my spring between my thighs,
He rests his retiring fat.
That he feeds me he says,
So a right to drill me he has,
It's shallow and narrow,
Yet to its depth he tears to reach,
The dead of night covers my dreaded secrets,
Accompanied by the threats of being behead,
If like my legs I open my mouth.
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