Men Poem by Benjuzzy Okpuzor

Men will make you,
And maim you,
Its all about my troubles but not my Struggles,

Beware of they who will make
A swear to say a word,
They will as well send you home early And say I swear on your grave,

Am so much afraid of my friends,
There's so much of Judah's in them,
We're praying for you, they said,
But actually preying on you,

Oh father!
What this men are I know not,
They who were long bereft of love for
Their fellow,
But always profuse love to my face,

Why privy into my
Private path,
Ply tongue everywhere,
Whispering poison to
Infect my laurels,

Their hard dealings
Teaches them suspect,
I'm the most hated
In this heated hell,

I have been a victim of grudges and Gossip, old wounds
Still lingers,

They crept out of the cave to crave for
What wasn't,
They look back at the child I was yesterday to judge a man today,

Kill the kings son, and wait for the king,
A fatherless boy with no one to cry to,
The crowd, and the moon mourn but wouldn't make a healing hand,

my tears has gone far to the maker
Yet the poet is unbowed, unbroken, and unbent.