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    WordSmithPraise | An African Literary Blog

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    Wednesday, 6 September 2017

    [Short Story ] Throes


    He would torture me in love
    So many horrific things I began to term love, cos' papa would say"I'm doing all these cos I love you don't see me as a bad person".
    I would want to spill the ocean gathered in my duct but no shoulder to lie my head upon.
    Then I started to grow within myself,
    I see the ugly things as love and their doers lovely alike. I have no question on their doings as I see all as love.
    And I'd fall into the hands of men like papa. They'd treat me alike and all I'd say is it's love. Every punishment and scar is embedded in the henna of love.
    No life of mine I've got. Mama ,who's shoulder I should have would keep on telling it's gonna be better.
    Trying her best to warn me of every man.
    But they seem like papa who loves me
    Then they love me too.
    Mama would cry helplessly,and I love endlessly.
    Co's that's the only type of love I understand and have come to accept and cherish.
    ©GloRiahNah

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