He stands unclothed

But feels very confident and clothed

In a judgeless public

Who his many booty dust lick


He hits his chest

And orders at his comfy quest

With means of the ‘seeful’ but mute

Shooting empty glances of talk and I’ll shoot


The irony is on you

The irony is on me

The irony is on he who thinks only for himself

And not for his generation


A time will come

When everything in those coffers will be gone

And hands that fight to reach in there

Will come out disillusioned


Then, only then, will we know

The essence of minding our mouths

Where our very own is at stake.

I hope that day comes and leaves us whole.

   Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2014.

By amoafowaa

Just a simple Ghanaian trying to find the best in our society. I may be fun, I may be interesting, I may be funny, I may even be foolish or intelligent, but it is all based on the mood in which you find yourself. I believe our minds make us who we are. Know that, pain, no matter its 'unbearability', is transient. Unburden or delight yourself for a while in my writings please. And all corrections, advice and opinions are welcome. Know that you are the king, queen or royal on this blog. :)

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