His name T.S.A  with the wick of a lion in the forest

The son of a prick , The woodpecker with a crest

Pecking the silver shores of my womanhood in my treasured   garden

Labia cracked, bleeding and stiff like a cardboard downtrodden

I never knew innocence until he took my scent

Slowly and coyly he led me to my death row like a convict

Against my will, he took me in and buried me in ramen


I begged and wailed, he never wavered ;exploring and exploiting

Riding and pounding with the rigours of a bounty hunter

Struggling and twisting, my strength failed me

Cowardice chirped in my ears as he stripped my dignity

Leaving me with proof of who I was with my virginity

My body subdued and left like a blank sheet tainted with red wine and ink

With pain sketched on the edges; battered , bruised and broken


Fear rippling like lightening in the core of my spine

The sight of bats became my wishing star

Torture pried all over with bites sunk in blood stained scarlet sheets

The void as wide as the space between life and death

Broken into pieces with no pieces to assemble


I stare into open space, frozen in time

Calling for death, incanting his ode

My body is alien to me with patches of a demon’s fingerprint

No soap could wash away the flashing images flooding in paint

Stuck forever on my forehead; there for the world to see and mock


At every sound of footsteps, touch of your kind in hell

The cape of the scared crow caw in me withdraws into its shell

Physicans applied oil and ointments

But it never seemed to fade

Of what use is a roaming corpse?

Of what use is a quill feather pen without blood ink?

Of what use is a scarred soul without healing?

Of what use is a stripped rag that has been rejected by its peers?

Tagged with a stage  name

Ripped, raped, rigged and dumped

In the trash can and left to rot

Now I run from you and your kind.



Tunrayo Ade.

Class of ’18.




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