Saint Bakhita

by saajidahfirdausi

There once was a man, who had a knife for a tongue.
Each day, he went to work, and spoke to no one.
He sat at his desk,
typing away. 
A day of work and back home he came, 
and he spoke, and he spoke, and he spoke.
With a smile and food on the table, sat mother and child,
squeezing lemon juice onto fresh cuts.

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