Making ends meet, dad was always drunk
All I could trace and gun
‘Mighty hand, I am down to this gore’
The tide of tussle roil around our hut
And I talked, ‘can I breed and breath with this burn’?

As I grade the route of crowning mama proud
I coil to burning candles on the clock till dawn
Scripted letters were all I fetch
But a brainy bird will have to be stretch
Back abode, as fees edge
This is where it hurts.

From the frosty punch of daily troubles
The wonky meal we pound on, doubles
For we were only greasing leftovers
From the brim of wealthy containers
Often, mama will toil from east to west with hunger
Oh! This is where it hurts.

Dripped from the walls of the school
My shadows never crossed exams as they should
For this has been my greatest shoe
Oh! My candles are now as fading moon
For I look back in anger
Mother, this is where it hurts.

Ogbewu Goodluck

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