Dear child, when things go wrong,
Lay your grievances unto me
If I do not answer you,
Blame me for your distress and heartache
Immoral men vigorously tear your delicate crescent-shaped hymen
They rip apart your priceless innocence with no shame in Gods eyes
They dangle their bloody weapons in your spherical,
Upside-down face joyfully stretching your fragile introituses mercilessly
The echo I hear in my ear of your little voice wailing in a distant land,
Scars my soul and drains my rich oxygenated-blood from the core
One day we shall meet my dear child
I’ll claim you as my own,
With these bare hands I’ll kill and break every man’s bone
You are mine and I am yours,
Side by side will valiantly conquer our flaws