MY OLD SCARS STILL HURTS...
My old scars still hurts me, though I'm healing bits by bits and my hopes are howling,
My old wounds are swollen with sufferings, whipped upon my back like a black slave,
My old injuries are drowning my soul with drizzling drip-drops, gentle yet gruesome.
My old bruises still burns me when the world spits sulphurous sauces on my face,
My old sores still stings me when my spirit grows cold and the world puts me down,
My old blotches still boils, I'm hoping they wash away soon in peaceful perfect pours.
©DECHOSEN1🌹
POET: OWOEYE TAIWO BISOLA
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem