I am like the mango tree-the center spot for all,

I wear my trauma in bliss,

My feeble hands craft world, 

For am for all substance.

We are like the tired wall soiled with mess,

Our backs crack up at will,

Yet we work for them that own us,

Without a fathom of fault.

I am like the mango tree-the center spot for all,

My anatomy, is made of me but not for me,

My offspring are beautiful terrors,

he that I belong to utilizes me with a coy smile.

We cry- but offer comfy shoulders to their crying.

We are tamed the ‘weaker vessel’,

Yet our vessels are elephantine-

None can bear.

I endure all kinds of winds and weather,

As a gigantic giant-serving my home,

I endure all kinds of words spitted at my face,

To uphold my worth.

We are like that mango tree-the center spot of all,

Stoned and grazed upon,

Treated like a parasite and played on,

Yet we smile in sweet distress.

Ojo Victoria Ilemobayo is a young Nigerian Student, phone graphics designer and a poet.

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