Pinch Of Heart Poem by David N. Munene

Heart in a painful pinch
Soul and ulcer fervently itch
What has been known to be
Remains nowhere for me to see
Screams aghast from the inside
Throng of vex in my veins ride
Pain to me is now bona fide

Even the mercy of sleep
Cannot soothe the anguish of weep
Like broken glass bleeds skin,
The shame of her acts is to death akin
No one ever hurt me like this
But silence will allow me to:
Cry without weeping
Weep without wailing
Wail minus hurting
Hurt minus screaming
Scream less sounding
Pain to me is now bona fide

Wife, if correction yields such quarrel,
And suggestion out of me a scoundrel,
Thence I shan’t be corrected
And no idea to me should be suggested
Will remain and partake ideal
Nothing will for me strike a deal
The death of my heart’s pinch
Will surely prolong my illness an inch
Pain to me will now not be bona fide