Tears trickle
As emotions of fire sprinkle
And a batch of hate giggle
As the kingdom of poverty heckle
They cry out loud when hunger their stomachs tackle
None dances, they just wince as this is not a normal cycle
I could cut my hands
If human meat could pacify the lands
I would be food for the hungry lands
If it could assure me that he would feed those, and by it stand
Ugly band
That forces men to dance
My eyes are flooded
My shoulders heavy stony-padded
My heart is panic stricken and sympathy cladded
But thirst rushes and himself added
To the woes of these bony handed
Little angels of unfortunate arrivals who are heavy hearted
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2014.
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