He looks famished

In tattered clothes

As he holds his dog chains

Waiting to be sales blessed

But, oh, poor lad, I hear “aaba ei!”

And he takes to his heels

The bread seller trips him

In her quest to escape

And the uniformed helped him not to rise

By letting his baton painfully talk to his poor looking skin

Which does not cry because of lack of red water

But screams in pain by showing white marks


What a world we do live in

Abusing jobs have become addictive

That we see no need to have some reasoning

   Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 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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