A little puff, they say,
Of this trifoliate magic,
Will steady your nerves, and
A little sip of that stallion pee
Will steal your memories
I bid their will.
Still they urge,
knock her down
Teach her the lesson of her life—
A man is a lion in the Mara
I bid their will.
One puff of the ghostly fumes
And a sip of the devil pee
Stole my sense of reason and judgement
And I set the roof of my hut ablaze
You are the man now, they said
She will never forget this day
As long as she remains buried,
In the debris of burnt thatch
And collapsed walls—
And that is how I murdered it.
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