Wanjiku Mwaura

She walked in breathing laboriously, holding a piece of soiled cloth to her body. She grunted as she struggled off her clothes plastered to her skin by sweat and blood. She was crying.

Though I rant and rave
And get these feelings
Of hurt and grief
Though I want to cry
But have to dry
These tears in me
In a well of pain and hurt
Though I smile at you
But hide my face
Coz am shy of the blemish that life has put
Of my childhood