I Write – by Tawiah Aboagye Tawiah

To tell the story of the woman

whose eyes bleed with pains

Whose virginity was robbed away

and is being treated with disdain

Yet her tongue has been left in painful stillness

Leaving her at the mercies of phantom observers

testifying as her witness

I write…

I write

Yes I write the story of the virgin heart

whose innocence left it vulnerable

The one that was shepherd in ignorance

To love and love with no turning back

Once held in high esteem on concreted ground

And now deserted in swampy mud

I write…

I write

To unravel the story of the robber who was lynched

who was born in a broken cage

The one who was never tamed by a fathers rage

And was never at the mercies of a loving mothers cane

Leaving his fate to the emblem ‘do or die’

strive to survive in the tiring voyage of life

I write…

I write

The story of the prostitute you just patronized

The one you met on her very first night

Who you bargained over her spotless pride

And paid without blinking an eye


You will come back to ‘it’ another time

I write…

I write

The story of the single mother

whose husband passed away mysteriously

Who never smiles because of a blood stained teeth

Whose children wait upon her return to feed

Getting no help from supposed family

Yet over her husband’s properties family compete

I write…

I write

Of the president who was aborted be a teenage mother

Whose father would have been a notorious gang leader

Or a shameless defiling step father

The one who was deprived of the challenges of this world

And was drowned in its mothers streaming tears

I write…

I write!

Yes I write these stories with wet eyes

With quivering fingers

On its readers heart creed

I write…

Offering my tongue to the voiceless

My eyes to the sightless

and my heart to the heartless

I write…

Yes I write!

and I write not glorious bright

Nor gloomy night

But I write

Yes I write what you think or may not think is right

But I write…