I've been told hundreds of times
that I'm weak, sickly.
Yes I am.
I am weak.
And more times then not
it's hard to even hold a pen and write these lines,
to even breathe and open these eyes,
but still I do, don't I;
isn't that worth a praise, world?

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Though I know how sickly you are in love with games
But still you have made me your priority
How

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On the streets we met
His Cheeks with tears were wet
What ails you? 'I asked
SICKLE CELL ANEMIA ,'He said
At the ATM queue we met
He laboured for breathe
What ails you ? ' I asked
Inhaler! ASTHMA ! He cried
Once met a lady in her Prime
Her frailty covered with a coat
Unhealthy skin obvious to the eyes
What ails you friend ?
After youthful follies
HIV/AIDS tamed my pride,'she said
Again I met a girl of Ten (10)
She looked okay but bald
What ails you darling?
CANCER she said and smiled, I cried
What innocence ! So unfair
Again I met two Men without legs
What ails you both I asked
After a Gastly motor ACCIDENT
my legs were gone ,'one said
Ah ! Out of my mothers womb
Thus and so I came forth,the other said
After all this findings,my tears flowed
How fortunate How grateful I am

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Motherhood is beautiful
Except when you have to fool yourself that you're ok,
And shoulder the responsibilities as a free maid when actually every single cell of your body is breaking to pieces...
So that ,people around you can get sick or rest in peace!!!

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