Sunday, April 24, 2011

Third poem of the week: Malika

See Malika was close to her religion
She wanted to be a pediatrician
But her friends had a different intuition
They wanted limitless attention

But Malika understood
that her friends were no good
Unlike them she didn’t blame the hood

For her current condition
Always cooking in the kitchen
Always washing the dishes
Her friends told her they were fulfilling their wishes

And they loved it
Malika wasn’t it with it
She knew this was forbidden
Her body she kept hidden

She didn’t want to be an object
She'd rather be a reject

Malika was only 19
But already a Somalian queen
All the things shed seen
She knew the streets were mean
That they didn’t leave a single girl clean

And she knew she would never give in
In the end she would win
She was almost free from sin

Always reminding herself that this life was a test
And the only thing that matters is how your heart is ,beating in your chest
One of her friends suffered cardiac arrest

U could tell by the way she dressed
While she progressed
Her friends fell far in the mess
So much stress
Leadin a double life more or less

They fell for all the bullshit
And all the guys they ran with
They were like a peace of meat
Replaceable, just like a dirty bed sheet

But from Malika they couldn’t get a taste
And because of this their time they didn’t waste
Cuz they all new Malika was pure and chaste

Her worldy desires she was fighting with her all
She was standing tall
While constantly witnessing others around her fall..

Note: Malika means Queen in Arabic

Ismail Mohamed '' Aka Ismaciil Boqorka Bosaso''
Copyright © 2009

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