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WHY ONLY MY BLOOD?- A Poem by Gabriel S. Weah

Why only my blood?

Gabriel S. Weah



On many occasions,

I’ve tried to know who I am.

I’ve asked the sky, rivers,

And just everything in my brokenness.

Hopeless living in this vanity world,

I found nothing more exciting than my pen.

Though I understand love,

Family matters, and many more,

Yet I’ve set them apart to open my eyes.

I ate tears throughout my history.

But in the shining ink of my pen,

My blood flows without thirst or pain.

Preach, not family or human dignity.

What is its importance?

If, in their presence, hardship nurtures you,

A medicine after death,

Tell me, what is its value?

Why only my blood?

I am like a hopeless dog on the street.

My bones are ripped with bruises.

Even family sees me like death.

But deep down in my yearning soul,

I see greatness in myself.

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