I’ve sat under a tree for its shade Eaten its fruits and given my water Hidden from the sun’s heat We gave out our bodies’ excretions But you keep taking
From the meaning of the bend on my finger To the heart I no longer wear up my sleeve We are cold in their shade It is clear they share and care better These trees that know not how to feel
Cheating is a verb
To have a man driven by skirts To have his zip controlled But not by you
He fathers many fatherless But who wants to be a mistake from a deliberate act Or one of the many thrown in the basket?