I was broken from a young age.
As an orphan, I struggled for wage.
I work with the street, as my family.
Getting matured, in solitarily.
Now, from a seed to a plant, I have grown.
With something I can call my own.
Although, I've had some trauma.
Life like writings, have a comma.
Living a lonely life is forcefully sweet and normal.
Alive, independent and chrismal.
© Madinah_Writes
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Fragrance From A Black Flower
Poetry#1 in blackpoets This collection of poems is intended to give some account of the conditions in which African oral poets produce their works, and the audiences to which they address themselves. However, even the most summary account of this topic is...
