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He chained me on our hut’s veranda
To wait for luck from the passersby
Luck that devoured my future and stripped me of my innocence

He drunk himself home
At the sight of my dowry
A little seed of coffee

It’s the moth that lighted his path
On a crawling stomach he knocked on the door

He had sold me to a father of ten, an old man.
Miserable lives his children lived at the expense of his pleasure.

Selfish minded were the two
Nothing more mattered.
May your homes be destroyed.
At least not to my mother.

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