Her mother never loved her
she kept wishing she never had her
A love child, in truth a bastard
From whence she could remember
Life was always hard
She rarely ever smiled
She was often sad
They treated her harshly
They said she was bad
Her mother loathed her
Because she resembled her dad
So she runaway, as soon
as she could find away
She packed her bags
and fled to the city
Hoping to find a prince charming
Who thought she was pretty
But all the men she met
Wanted to use her body
To tell her lies to confuse her
then misuse and abuse her
Quickly she learned their game
And began to make them pay for her charms
To be held for a moment
In the warmth of her arms
Still she dreams of settling down
and starting her own home
But that is hard
When selling yourself, for your,
Daily bread is the norm
Gone is her age of innocence
Lost to life's experience
James Kuchio Asonga/ Superb Wun 2011©
To read more of the poet log onto http://www.infinitevision.blog.com/ or http://www.chrismukasa.blogspot.com/
she kept wishing she never had her
A love child, in truth a bastard
From whence she could remember
Life was always hard
She rarely ever smiled
She was often sad
They treated her harshly
They said she was bad
Her mother loathed her
Because she resembled her dad
So she runaway, as soon
as she could find away
She packed her bags
and fled to the city
Hoping to find a prince charming
Who thought she was pretty
But all the men she met
Wanted to use her body
To tell her lies to confuse her
then misuse and abuse her
Quickly she learned their game
And began to make them pay for her charms
To be held for a moment
In the warmth of her arms
Still she dreams of settling down
and starting her own home
But that is hard
When selling yourself, for your,
Daily bread is the norm
Gone is her age of innocence
Lost to life's experience
James Kuchio Asonga/ Superb Wun 2011©
To read more of the poet log onto http://www.infinitevision.blog.com/ or http://www.chrismukasa.blogspot.com/
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